


The True Queen: Book One

by MickeyTaco



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 140,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickeyTaco/pseuds/MickeyTaco
Summary: Frieda Reiss did not perish at the hands of Grisha Yeager. Instead, she was the victor, allowing her family to live on. However, with every action comes consequences as the Reiss family make its mark on the world for good or for bad. The naive child, the rebellious girl, the witty teenager, the desperate usurper, the controlling mother, the conniving father, and the True Queen.





	1. Broken Vow

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fanfic story published on AO3. I'm cowriting this with Crod42, who doesn't have a account here but this story wouldn't be around or even possible without his idea and help. Frieda Reiss was my favorite side character and we are hoping to remedy the fact that she didn't get the attention she deserved. We hope you enjoy this new story: The True Queen.

(Year 842)

 

It was hard to see the luminescent light of the crystal cave through the tears Frieda Reiss shed. She never wanted to see this day come, but time was never merciful to the guilty or the innocent. Running seemed like a good idea. Hide in her room where she would be safe from this horrible day. Her parents would understand, wouldn’t they?  
She could hear them behind her. They were talking about something important, most likely about who would receive the holy inheritance next. “Holy...” If this truly was a holy power, then why did it curse her family in such a terrible way? They were tasked to protect their people, and this was their reward?  
“Dear Frieda, don’t cry.”  
Frieda gasped, turning her blue eyes upward. There he was at the top of the altar. His legs were bound so he would not run. His arms were chained and covered so he could not fight back. His wrinkled face looked down at hers, giving her that comforting smile that he used to give her.  
“This is how things are meant to be,” he told her, his purple eyes filled with wisdom and sadness. “You know this a price I must pay.”  
“I don’t want you to go,” Freida wailed, sinking to her knees, ignoring how cold the crystal was. “Please don’t go.”  
“Frieda, you must stop this.” Footsteps that approached her echoed throughout the cavern, the conversation she didn’t listen to coming to a stop. She felt a gentle hand grasp her shoulder, her head turning towards the sympathetic yet stern expression of her father, Rod Reiss. “You must be strong. Crying will not prevent the inevitable. Uri knows this. You know this.”  
“If you must cry, little one,” the man at the altar added, “cry for our lost and wayward people.”  
She stiffened at the mention of their people. They were lost because her ancestors made them lost. They were wayward because they had nowhere else to go. They were isolated in walls built on the backs of innocent people, doomed to be trapped until the day of their deaths came. Her wonderful uncle preached the goodness of humanity, pleaded for love to be shown to them. In the end, did he ever truly show them love?  
An idea began to take hold in her young mind. A crazy one, to be sure, but there were not many options before her that could make such a difference. Her parents were probably too blind to make the call that needed to be made. And her young siblings, all children that deserved to live their lives to the fullest. She would not dare curse them with the fate that continued to be handed throughout their family since the beginning.  
“Give me the serum, Father,” Frieda requested shakily.  
Rod’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting that from her. “What did you say?”  
She wiped away her tears in order for him to see her determined eyes. “I will become the next Coordinate.”  
As expected, her family recoiled with dropped jaws, unable to believe that she, of all people, would volunteer for such an ordeal.  
The eldest of Frieda’s brothers, yet younger than her, approached. “Frieda, please don’t do this. I’ll take the serum. You can’t--.”  
“You’re not ready for this, Urklyn,” Frieda interrupted, standing up. “I know you well enough to know that.”  
“I… I don’t want to lose you, too,” he confessed, his voice cracking either from age or grief.  
“And that is why you are not ready, Urklyn,” their father said stoically. “While you would do it to honor your sister, the ones who receive the holy inheritance must do it for the sake of all our people.” His gaze drifted to his daughter. “Unless you have the same motivations as your brother.”  
Frieda held firm. “I would spare any member of my family the fate that has afflicted our family, but I know that our people come first. I will protect them with my very life, and I will never give in to the ghosts of my ancestors.”  
The two stared at each other for the longest time, the seconds passing by in silence. Finally, Rod relented with a heavy sigh. “Then it shall be so.” He took her hand into his and placed a syringe containing the liquid in it. “Lead us well, my daughter… my Queen.” He curled her fingers around it as he stepped back with a slight bow. “Come, Urklyn.”  
Reluctantly, Urklyn returned to the rest of the family, trying not to break down for the sake of his sister. He didn’t want to make this harder for her than it had to be.  
Frieda stared at the golden liquid as it sloshed around inside. All she had to do was inject it into her arm. It was so simple, yet harder than anything she had ever done in her life. She lowered it to stare at her family. Her mother, Greta, was on the verge of tears herself, clinging onto her husband. Abel simply stared back with a shocked expression until her father commanded her to turn around. Urklyn knelt to Dirk and little Florian’s level, embracing them tightly as so they wouldn’t see the horrors that would be unleashed. Frieda could only pray that they would not let their curiosity get the better of them and allow their innocence to remain untarnished.  
She placed the needle against her arm, preparing to push it in. Her arm shook, doubt crawling into her skin like a spider. She closed her eyes and did the only thing she could do: pray. “Goddess Ymir, please give me the strength and wisdom to lead our people, show them the love and compassion you showed them all those years ago. And please, welcome Uncle Uri into your kingdom. Let him rest his tired head among family.” Tears fell down her face yet again as she pushed the needle in. “Please forgive me.”  
A fire engulfed her instantly, setting her body ablaze. It felt like her skin was boiling, so she let out a frightened and pained scream that sent shivers down the spines of her family. Slowly, the scream got deeper and distorted as time went on, sounding more like a demon than that of a human being. Pieces of flesh swarmed her and fused with her body, increasing in size rapidly. Energy coursed through her body that begged for a release. It felt so wrong. All of this was so wrong. She wanted to get away, but it was impossible. She needed freedom. She needed safety. She needed humans.  
At ten meters tall, a gigantic humanoid stood in Frieda’s place. The black hair was the only giveaway that proved who she really was. Her current body had ridges all over as if they were dents. There were no lips on her form and instead, only an exposed jaw. Her gigantic eyes drifted towards her chained uncle, who still smiled at her, and, without hesitation, she bit down, ripping him in half. Only his pelvis remained. The blood sizzled in her mouth and she gulped, a lump going down her throat. A roar escaped her lungs, satisfied with her kill.  
With a second quick swallow, the remaining blood slid down her throat, and she turned to the other humans in the room. Taking a large step in their direction, her face loomed menacingly closer, her hand reached to claim the sobbing woman. Then, she froze, eyes widening in horror. She pulled back her hand and clutched her head with it, roaring in pain. Steam erupted from the back of her nape and her gigantic body crashed to the ground with a resounding thump.  
Pulling themselves out of their stupor, Rod and Urklyn were the first ones to reach the nape. Blood poured from an opening, a rotting smell filling the air. The two resisted the urge to vomit as they began to tug more of the skin and flesh off. The steam grew thicker, but the two caught sight of Frieda’s human body. Reaching inside, they drew her out, a squelching sound emitting from the flesh. Red strands were stuck to her body, the monster not wanting to release her, but they were quickly snapped off.  
Carefully, Urklyn and his father lowered Frieda to the ground, her closed eyes ordained with burns. She looked peaceful, almost as if she was asleep.  
“Frieda?” her father asked cautiously.  
With a groan, Frieda opened her eyes. They were an icy purple, just like her uncle’s.

\------------------------

(Year 845)

Three years did nothing to age the beautiful cavern underneath the chapel. The natural, luminescent glow of the crystals created an ethereal environment for the Reiss family coming to worship and pray. They all wore white robes and sandals for the occasion, white for purity, and sandals for peace. Once everyone had gathered around, Frieda began with the opening prayer.  
“Goddess Ymir, the creator of the holy inheritance, blessed are your descendants. We, the protectors of your people, do offer up prayers for the souls of those who are departing.” Frieda's eyes were closed as a sign of reverence as she offered up a prayer on behalf of her family, who were all huddled together. “May they find rest in your holy and eternal embrace. Might you continue to find favor with us as we increase your holy mission--”  
A resounding slam caused half the family to jump, though all of their hearts skipped a beat or two. Frieda whirled around, stepping in front of her family on instinct.  
Standing in front of her, unannounced, was a man struggling to catch his breath, doubled over. A simple look at his clothes revealed that he was a commoner, probably from the Wall Maria districts.  
Florian took refuge with her mother, clinging onto her waist. Dirk stayed behind Frieda as if she could shield him from the danger. Urklyn stood to the side in case he needed to act. Abel, as expected, stared defiantly at the stranger. Their father seemed to be the most worried of the bunch, his eyes darting between Frieda and the man.  
“How dare you trespass into my home?” Frieda asked, eyes blazing with anger. “State your business before I kill you here and now.”  
He adjusted his circular glasses and raised himself to a more proper posture, though he looked quite desperate. “Please, listen to me. Shiganshina, my home, has been attacked by the Titans. They’re inside the Walls.”  
She gave a derisive snort. “I am well aware of that fact. That doesn’t explain who you are and why you’re here.”  
“My name is Grisha Yeager,” he explained, his brown eyes pleading with her icy ones. “I, like you, am a Subject of Ymir.”  
Frieda’s eyes widened, her anger put aside for the moment. “Impossible.” She was the only one with the power of the Titans on this island.  
Grisha was not deterred as he continued. “I am an Eldian, and I have come from beyond the Walls.”  
In an instant, her eyes narrowed dangerously. Now it all made sense. “You’re from Marley.”  
“I fled from Marley to not only seek refuge within these Walls, but to ask for your help.” To her surprise, the man knelt before her. “I am begging you, Queen of the Walls. Please, you must kill all the Titans attacking the Walls at once before my wife… my children… before the people of the Walls are eaten!” Tears dripped down his face, staining the crystal floors.  
Frieda’s gaze softened considerably. This was not an invader. He was a father begging for the life of his family. She could never find it in her heart to fault him for that. “I understand your circumstances, but I can’t give you what you need. I’m sorry.”  
Grisha’s head jerked up, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Your ancestor, Karl Fritz, swore to retaliate if the Marleyans ever tried to destroy us all. He made a vow for the Eldians’ sake, your people!”  
“Did I stutter, Mr. Yeager?” Her voice took on an edge. “I cannot do anything about the Titans. Now, leave this place.”  
“Can’t… or won’t?”  
Frieda’s hand tightened into a fist. “You are trying my patience. I have given you my answer. If Ymir deems your family to live, then they will live. If not, then that’s the way things will happen. I won’t repeat myself: get out of my home!”  
In a split second, everything changed. Grisha whipped out a knife from his sleeve and stabbed it directly into his palm. The family recoiled from the explosion that filled the cave, a monster forming in Grisha’s place. Standing at fifteen meters, the Titan’s eyes were a bright green that glowed. His facial hair was thicker and black, a stark contrast from his human form. He let out a roar that spelled disaster for the family.  
Frieda was not the same, hesitant girl she was three years ago. She wasn’t just an adult. She was the Queen of the Eldians, and she would be damned if this demon laid a single finger on her family. Eyes blazing with rage, she bit down hard on her hand, drawing blood.  
Flesh quickly formed around her body as she towered to her full Titan form, standing at 13 meters. Her feminine physique was unmistakable yet not unattractive. Her face conveyed the fury she had been unable to contain as she roared in the face of the monster that dared to not only intrude into this sacred place, but attack her family. It was unforgivable, and he would die for it.  
She charged at him and delivered a hard punch to his jaw, causing him to recoil, but the attack didn’t draw a hint of blood. That fact only made her angrier as she ran at him with the intent of tearing him apart. Unfortunately, Grisha launched his own punch that sent her crashing into a crystal pillar, cracking it. Her spine ached from the blow and she was pretty sure there was a dent in her face.  
In that singular moment, Frieda began to understand her situation. This man was a superior opponent to her. Sure, she knew the basics of fighting from Kenny just like her siblings did, but this was far different. If she wasn’t careful, she could very well lose her life and put her family at risk. She’d burn in Hell first.  
Grisha advanced on her with a charge, but she was ready this time. She sidestepped his dash and slammed him into the crystal pillar, shattering it completely. Stalactites rained down from the ceiling and onto the Titan, forcing him to raise his arms in defense. Several screams caught her attention, making her head dart towards her running family. What the hell were they still doing here? And then, it dawned on her: she and Grisha were blocking the exit. Shaking it off, she tried to reach his nape only for his arm to send her rolling across the ground in a heap.  
“Leave her alone!”  
Frieda’s heart almost stopped. Florian. Her eyes darted once more to her family, seeing that her baby sister was being held back by Greta. Grisha paid the little one no mind as he pinned her down, keeping one hand on her wrist. He raised his other hand, curling into a fist, prompting her to act quickly. Before he could throw it at her, she grabbed a fallen shard of crystal and stabbed it deep into his eye, making him recoil in pain. This gave her the opportunity to kick the off-balanced Titan off her. Now, she had an advantage. Granted, he still had one functional eye, but it was something.  
Once she was on her feet, Grisha took another swing at her. She wisely backed up, letting the attack hit nothing but air. She needed to act fast before he regenerated. Once another wild swing came for her, Frieda ducked under the blow and jumped onto his back. Before he knew it, she sunk her teeth right into his nape.  
Grisha roared in pain, throwing his weight forward which sent Frieda rolling over his shoulder. Her momentum carried her into another crystal column that cracked under the force of the impact. Forcing herself to her feet, she had only an instant to sidestep the larger Titan that barreled straight for her. Grisha lacked the agility to stop as fast and caught himself heavily on the breaking pillar with his hand, causing it to fully crumble. He stumbled, not anticipating that it would give so easily. Frieda couldn't miss the opportunity given to her and hit the Titan from the side, sending him heavily to the floor, her lithe form atop his. A feral roar escaped her throat as she dug her jaws deep into the flesh of his hand that flew up to cover his nape, severing it fully, and exposing the vulnerable neck. One snap of her teeth cut through the muscles and sinew, exposing the screaming man engulfed within. Grisha lifted his head to plead for his life, but the last thing he saw was the fury-laden purple eyes of Frieda Reiss’s Titan form, and the gaping jaw that enveloped him. With a sickening, bloody crunch, Grisha Yeager was no more.  
As her prey descended down her gullet in chunks and his former Titan began to disintegrate, Frieda unleashed a victory roar that echoed throughout the cave. Once she wiped her mouth clean of blood, she turned her head to her family. Of course, Florian was kept protected from this gruesome display thanks to their mother, who was whispering assurances in her ears. Abel and Dirk were not so fortunate as they looked like they were about to vomit. Urklyn was horrified, unable to take his eyes off the bloody scene. Rod, however, reacted differently.  
“Frieda, can you hear me?” he asked cautiously.  
She dipped her massive head to him. “Yes, Father.” Her voice was gravelly, almost like a smoker’s voice. Rough and low. Slowly, she approached them, her footsteps shaking the ground. To her surprise, her father stretched his hand out to her. She bent low so he could reach her face, and he caressed her cheek lovingly. She closed her eyes, making a sound almost akin to a purr.  
“God has protected us,” Rod said in reverence. “We are truly blessed.”  
Frieda backed up a few paces and steam erupted from her nape. Her Titan form was frozen on its hands and knees as she managed to pull herself out of the messy flesh that kept her inside. However, once she was on the ground, she started to gag as she emptied her stomach of everything except bones and blood. This wasn’t her acting on the primal instincts of a Titan. She devoured another human being, and it tasted good. To her family, this was divine influence, but to Frieda, she was cursed, just like her ancestors.


	2. A Son's Strife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MickeyTaco: We want to set aside the levity of the first chapter’s author note and be crystal clear: this story is rated M for a reason. It's about to be very dark, and graphic in terms of violence. It was extremely challenging to write portions of this chapter for both Crod42 and I, but we felt that it's necessary for the sake of the story as a whole. Consider this to be your trigger warning.

Chapter Two: A Son’s Strife

The sound of Frieda retching brought Urklyn back into the present from the horrific replay his mind was stuck on. He was sure it would take a good deal of time to fully recover from the trauma he and his family had just witnessed. What had started as a holy act of worship had fully evolved into something entirely different. He felt numb to the core as his mind tried to process the gruesome events that just happened.  
Rod, ever the calm one, turned to his wife. “Can you look after Frieda and the children?”  
“O-of course, dear,” she stuttered. At least his mother had a human reaction.  
“Urklyn, come with me,” his father commanded of him. It was not a request.  
The seventeen-year old stiffened initially, but with an obedient, “Yes, Father,” he followed the man towards the exit without looking back. It was odd to some people that someone as tall as Urklyn could be subservient to a man much shorter than him—some people were not members of the Reiss family. Wisely, the teen stayed quiet as they climbed out of the secret entrance into the chapel. The familiar scent of blood accosted their senses upon arrival.   
Three guards were instructed to keep any intruders out. The guard closest to them had his throat slit, his dead eyes staring at Urklyn. Blood flowed down his body and seemed to seep into his chest. Out of respect, Rod closed the man's eyes. The carpet leading to the altar was scuffed up, indicating a struggle. Unfortunately, the second guard was not lucky enough, as evident by a wooden stake from a broken bench in his chest. The third guard, however, was face down on the ground with a wound on the back of his head. A golden, dented candelabra near the body was the obvious weapon of choice.   
“Tell me what happened here,” Rod said, looking right at his son.  
Trying not look nervous, Urklyn surveyed the worship hall. “Um… the guard with the head wound was attacked--”  
“Stop.”  
Damn it. Not again. Urklyn braced himself for the inevitable.  
“How did Grisha Yeager get in? Did he float inside? Is he a master teleporter?” Rod crossed his arms.  
“I don't know,” the teen admitted.  
“Then until you have all the information, stay silent.”  
Once again, Urklyn looked around for any signs of disturbances. The hidden side entrances weren't used. If they were, the sounds of them creaking open would have alerted the guards to those positions. Obviously, the front door was out of the question unless the guards became brain-dead buffoons. That only left the upper floor. Immediately, it all became clear.  
“The hidden staircase.” He pointed to the left. “He used it to reach the balcony pews. It allowed him to analyze the worship hall and plan his attack.” Urklyn proceeded to the guard with the head wound. “He silently came down the stairs and killed the man with the candelabra. The noise alerted the guards, but one had to stay behind to guard the altar. Grisha killed the guard with his knife before getting attacked by the survivor. He put up a fight, but Grisha still won.” He looked at his father expectantly. “That is what happened.”  
Rod was silent for a moment as he walked towards his son. Once he was close enough, he said, “You missed a crucial piece, Urklyn.”  
Urklyn was befuddled by that declaration. “What did I miss?”  
Rod pointed at the guard with the head wound. “He's still alive.”  
Adding insult to injury, the guard began to stir with a groan.  
“He's mostly dead?” Urklyn offered unhelpfully, clearly embarrassed.  
His father was unamused. In fact, he seemed to pity his son. However, the guard took priority. Carefully, Rod turned him over and asked, “What happened?”  
The guard let out several harsh coughs as he spoke. “Came outta nowhere, sir. I couldn't stop him.”  
“Clearly.” He gave the man a murderous glare. Withdrawing a dagger from a hidden pocket in his robe, Rod deeply slit the throat of the remaining guard, straightening as the blood gurgled and soaked over the man’s prone form.   
Urklyn swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his own throat at what he'd just seen.  
Rod’s cold eyes turned back to his son. “Now he's all dead.”   
The teen didn’t dare move, as if he was afraid the knife would be turned onto him.  
Fortunately, his father pocketed the knife after wiping it down on the unstained sleeve of the guard’s shirt. “We have work to do. Take off that white robe before you taint it with blood. The bodies have to be removed and this place cleaned before any services can be held in here.”   
“Why did you kill him?” Urklyn couldn’t stop the question from tumbling out of his mouth.  
“He failed to protect my family and your sister,” Rod replied simply. “There is only one punishment a man like that will face. Now, get to work.”  
Urklyn grimaced as he looked around at the grisly scene. At least it wasn’t as bad as last time.  
\-----------------

Urklyn nearly jumped out of his seat as thunder cracked overhead. He always hated storms.   
The man sitting across from him chuckled darkly. “Little whelp is gonna wet himself at this rate, Rod.”  
The fifteen-year old glared back. “I’ll be sure to aim it at you when I do.”  
“That’s enough, Urklyn,” Rod scolded sternly.  
The man, however, threw his head back and laughed. “I like this kid, Rod. You sure he’s one of yours?”   
“I don’t need your snide remarks, Kenny,” Rod added.  
The carriage came to a halt, signaling the arrival at the Garber Estate.  
“Finally,” Kenny said, putting on his hat. “It’s gonna be good to stretch my legs.”  
“Son, remember what I told you?” Rod asked.  
“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” Urklyn answered automatically.  
“And stay close to me at all times,” his father finished for him, the door opening by the footman.   
The Garber Estate was the last one of four large homes on the narrow road that was a favorite of Wall Sina nobility. The two-story, brownstone house was clean and welcoming from the exterior, manicured trees trimming the sides of the doorway. Urklyn found himself comparing it to his own home, and snickering silently that it was smaller and less magnificent.   
“Wait here,” Rod ordered the driver and the footman.  
The two nodded, maintaining their posts by the carriage.  
Taking the lead, Rod knocked on the door and waited patiently with a neutral expression.  
Not even five seconds passed as the door creaked open with a maidservant on the other side. “Good evening, Lord Reiss. Please come in. Master Garber is expecting you.” Her eyes drifted to the other two. “I was unaware you’d be bringing guests.”  
Kenny tipped his hat to her with a smile. “Don’t mind me, Miss. I’m just his glorified bodyguard.”  
Rod put his hands on Urklyn’s shoulders. “This is my son, Urklyn. Lord Garber is already acquainted with him.”  
“Of course, my lord.” With a bow, she opened the door wider, allowing them inside.  
The foyer they stepped into gave way into an expansive seating area focused around a warm, crackling fireplace, a bay window overlooking the gardens revealed the top of a sculpture out in the rain. A slight turn to the left of the main entrance revealed the long table just past the doorway of the dining hall. To the right of the door where they stood was a large staircase ascending to the second floor. Dressed in a silver gown that accentuated her figure, her blonde hair swept in a loose updo, Mathilda Garber looked every bit the part of the welcoming hostess as she slowly descended the stairs. “Welcome, Rod! And I see you've brought Urklyn with you, what a pleasant surprise.”  
He smiled back and kissed her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Mathilda.”  
Seeing that her mistress had things well in hand, the maid gave a curtsy before departing into the dining hall.   
“Aw, Urklyn, you’re soaking wet,” she said with a frown. “Rod, didn’t I give you an umbrella for your birthday?”  
“Dirk used it to sword fight with Abel,” he answered. “Guess how well that ended.”  
Mathilda gave a short laugh. “You poor man, though you do have the best stories when it comes to your children. Come on. My husband does not like to wait when it comes to dinnertime.”  
“Good to know his appetite remains as large as ever,” Rod said as the trio followed Mathilda into the ornate dining hall.  
The table they came upon was large enough to hold fifteen people, though only set for five. Urklyn nearly drooled at the smell of roasted pheasant. It had been too long since he had it. Sitting at the head of the table with greying, brown hair was the master of the household himself, Dolph Garber. As per usual, he dressed sharply in his dinner jacket. Today, it was red. It would’ve been his favorite green jacket, but after a nasty incident with some cats, he could no longer wear it.   
With a smile that lit up the room, Dolph stood. “Ah, Rod. How many years has it been?”  
“Two long years, my friend,” Rod responded, embracing him with a pat on the back. “I see your conquest to eat everyone out of house and home continues.”  
“And I see you’re expecting another child,” the man shot back jovially before pausing. “Wait, are you?”  
Urklyn sounded like he was choking, but he was actually trying to hide his laughter and failing miserably.  
Rod shot his son a dark look before answering. “Florian is the baby of our family, and that is how she will stay.”  
“That’s what you said last time with Abel,” Dolph pointed out, “but I digress.” He turned his gaze to the teen. “Urklyn, my boy, you’ve gotten taller. I daresay even taller than your old man.”  
“Thank you, sir,” he replied respectfully, giving a nod of his head.  
“No need for ceremony, son.” Dolph ruffled his hair before clapping his hands together. “Well, let’s not stand around. Let’s eat, drink, and catch up.”  
“Finally. An uptight son of a b--gun who understands the important things,” Kenny said, catching himself in the nick of time as he sat down.  
Fortunately for Urklyn, the man was seated across from him next to Mathilda, placing his hat on the chair post. The teen wished he could sit there, though. Mathilda was always nice to him. He waited patiently as multiple butlers, who were pushing out a cart of fresh greens, and the cook entered the dining hall from an unassuming back doorway. Brandishing a large chef’s knife, the cook cut into the pheasant, dividing it into proper serving sizes. He placed them onto the plates along with a generous portion of sliced, baked potatoes the pheasant rested on. However, for Rod, he scooped out a serving of sweet potatoes and delivered it to him.  
“Dolph, what’s this?” Rod asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“That, my friend, is your wife’s orders to me,” Dolph answered with a smirk. “You’re welcome to try and get away with it, but you and I both know Greta will find out.”  
Urklyn chose to put a bite of the pheasant in his mouth rather than react in amusement, though he was sorely tempted to. He couldn't argue, because he knew that Dolph was correct. Somehow, his mother had a way of finding certain things out, even when it had been carefully kept from her. This made life rather unpleasant for the children on multiple occasions. He and Frieda had joked that she might be clairvoyant, considering how she tended to interfere with things in her home and family.   
“So, Dolph,” Kenny began once he swallowed a good chunk of meat, “I don’t see any guards. You shopping around for new ones? Pay me right, and you can solve all your problems right now.”  
“You are a blunt man, Kenny,” Dolph observed with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, at this time, my bodyguard positions are full. Should something happen, I’ll be more than happy to talk terms.”  
“That can be arranged.” A dark laugh escaped the man’s lips.  
Rod let out an exasperated sigh. “Forgive him, Dolph. What he lacks in tact, he more than makes up for with his skills.”  
“Don’t worry,” Dolph assured. “I know better than to buy off your man unless I had someone or something better to trade with.”  
“That I’m well aware of.”  
Urklyn froze, slowly lowering the potato that almost made it into his mouth. There was a barely decipherable edge to his father’s tone. He only used it when someone was in deep trouble, like when he helped Dirk get out of his studies and tried to deceive their parents about it. That ended… poorly, to say the least.  
Apparently, Dolph detected it too. “Something wrong, Rod?”  
Calmly, Rod put his fork down, putting his hands together as if he was contemplating something. “Dolph, you and I are one of the few people that know the truth about our ‘ruler.’ I was honestly hoping the leak would be from Aurille. I could live without him, but you?” His eyes narrowed dangerously at his friend. “The trail led straight to you.”  
Mathilda laid her napkin down beside her plate, “Dear, what is he talking about? What leak is this?” Her tone held confusion as she glanced from Rod to her husband and back.  
The cheerful expression was erased from existence and in its place was fear as Dolph pleaded with his friend. “Please. Leave my wife out of this.”  
Rod sighed, but when he gazed back at him, there was a cold glint in his eyes. “You should’ve thought of that sooner.”  
In the blink of an eye, Kenny whipped out his pistols and shot Mathilda right in the head, the blood and brain matter splattering the table as well as her dress. The woman slumped to the ground lifelessly as Dolph shouted her name before getting a newly-made hole in his leg. Urklyn was beside himself as he tried to run, only for his father to take him by the elbow and force him back to his seat.   
“You will stay until we've finished what we came here to do,” Rod growled at the teen.   
In the heat of adrenaline, Urklyn grabbed the plate and smashed his father’s head with it. Rod recoiled, unable to stop his son from running out of the dining hall, screaming himself hoarse from the horrors he'd just witnessed his father and Kenny create. Maids and servants came rushing to his aid, but they were gunned down by Kenny almost instantly. The man didn’t even get up as he changed the clip on his gun. Despite being blinded by tears, Urklyn tried to get out the front door, but while he was able to turn the handle, the door would not budge. He was trapped.  
“Let me out! LET ME OUT!” Urklyn shouted, but no one was coming to help him. No one cared even to respond.  
Frightened screams filled the house then faded as the remaining servants and maids alike were dropped like flies, left and right, the house erupting with the heavy scent of blood.   
In the dining hall, Dolph clung to his bleeding leg, tears flowing freely down his face. “Make it stop! Rod, please, make it stop. I've had my punishment… I never should've said anything. Please, no more!” His whimpered cries fell on deaf ears as the gunshots rang out. Rod stood in his place, stoically watching until finally, the only sounds remaining were the sniffling cries from his son on the staircase and the weeping, injured nobleman on his left.  
Rod simply took a napkin and wiped his face to clear the blood from his head wound. While his injury continued to bleed, he could still see. He stretched his hand out to Kenny, who relinquished one of his guns to him. He pointed it at Dolph’s head. “The only one you have to blame is yourself.” He pulled the trigger, a sound of thunder filling the air.  
Urklyn curled himself into a ball, trying to protect himself from the terrifying images that plagued his mind. There was no escape no matter how tightly he closed his eyes.  
Rod walked past his son and rapped on the door. “Remove the restraints. It’s over.”  
“Yes, sir.” Urklyn recognized the responding voice as the carriage driver’s.   
“If you think I take pleasure in this, you’re wrong,” Rod said with a cold neutrality that chilled him to the bone. “Dolph was my friend, but because of him, the future of our family may be at risk. If I have to kill my friends to protect the people I love, then I will do so without hesitation. That’s what it means to be in the Reiss family.”  
Urklyn risked looking up from his hiding spot. His father looked like something out of a horror novel. Blood dripped over his face and his clothing, yet the man made no move to clean it up. The worst part was his silver eyes. There was no sympathy or love in them. Just an empty, cold stare.  
“Well, look at this, Rod.” Kenny entered the foyer area wearing his hat once more, stained with blood splatter from head to boots, while holding the pheasant. “Free food.”  
And just like that, Urklyn regurgitated his dinner.  
\--------------------

“Urklyn. Urklyn! Don't just stand there. Focus on the holes, damn it!”   
Rod’s harsh tone calling his name snapped Urklyn back into the present. “Yes, Father,” he replied quickly to soothe his parent’s ire. He glanced at the shovel in his hands briefly then went back to work digging the makeshift graves for the guards from the chapel. His clothes were covered in dirt and sweat, having been digging for forty-five minutes. He could only imagine how many bodies were buried on the estate at this point. Thirty? Fifty? A even hundred?   
To his surprise, his father asked, “You were thinking about it again, weren’t you?”  
Urklyn stiffened, but he nodded. He knew better than to lie by now. “I was. But it's in the past. We need to focus on the present, right?”  
“If the past affects the present, it causes problems,” Rod pointed out, putting the shovel down. “While I regret the manner in which I taught that lesson to you, I hope you’re able to retain that lesson for the future.”  
“Can we talk about Frieda, please?” Urklyn requested. Out here, he felt more free to be casual.  
“I don’t see why not,” his father answered. “I can tell you’re worried about her.”  
Heaving an exhausted sigh, Urklyn jammed the shovel into the dirt to keep it steady, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “I should’ve fought harder for her. If I had gotten the serum that day, she wouldn’t be going through that shit.”  
“We’ve been over this before, Urklyn,” Rod reminded him. “You weren’t ready then, and you aren’t ready now. It’s not just your devotion to your sister that’s keeping you back.”  
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.  
Rod stepped closer to him. “I look at you, and I want to see the man you aspire to be. Instead, I see that scared, little boy from the Garber Estate screaming for help. You don’t have what it takes to rule this country with the mindset it takes. Frieda does. She was born with it, but you are trying to learn it. I did not entrust you with the holy inheritance then, and I don’t now.” He began walking back to his own shovel before adding, “You have ten years to prove me wrong. Start now.”   
Urklyn was stunned to silence, though he managed to do what his father ordered him to do. He continued to dig the graves, just as his father and Kenny dug the graves last time. Even now, he could not stop seeing the memories that plagued him. Fourteen souls taken at the Garber Estate, and now, five more souls to the call. The three guards, Grisha, and… Frieda. She was so different now. She used to care about the suffering of others, lend a helping hand when she could, but to see her not only turn her head at Grisha and the rising death toll in Wall Maria, but to also devour the man who was trying to save his family; he could barely wrap his mind around it.  
Perhaps he was too much of a weakling to say anything before, do anything meaningful. Not anymore. He wasn’t about to let Frieda become corrupted by the “holy inheritance” like every single Reiss member who took it was. For the sake of his family, for the sake of their people, he would do whatever it took to save his sister. If his father burned for it, so be it. He had no love for a man he hated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We appreciate every single reader who managed to get through this chapter to the end. This was, quite possibly, the hardest chapter we’ve ever written. No child should ever go through what Urklyn went through, and I want to sincerely apologize if we brought up horrible memories to anyone who ever suffered abuse. Right now, the road is dark, but one day, there will be an end to the darkness, even if it’s just a flicker of light. I promise.


	3. Loose Ends

Rod let an exhausted sigh as he began approaching the farmland. It had been quite some time since he had been here. Mostly, it would be Alma coming to visit him when time allowed, but he almost never came here. Out of all his secrets, this one was the most personal. He hoped that Greta would be able to placate his children’s curiosities on his whereabouts. Last thing he needed was for them to know about Alma and… her.  
He stared outside at the rich fields. The late afternoon sun was casting a spectacular glow on the ripening crops and livestock. He caught a glimpse of the blonde hair of the young child who wasn't supposed to exist, carrying a basket of vegetables toward one of the storehouses. At least she had the sense of carrying her weight unlike a certain youngest son of his. Curiously, she stopped and stared at the approaching carriage, but he chose to avert his gaze. Now wasn’t the time for her.  
A small smile crossed his features when he spotted the reason he was here sitting underneath a tree. He wondered what she could be reading this time. Perhaps the tale of the star-crossed lovers she looked up to. It was always her favorite fantasy minus the double suicide at the end. Naturally, his unannounced arrival tore her gaze from her book. Standing with a soft gasp, her brown eyes sparkled with joy as she ran towards the carriage, her shoulder-length chestnut hair flowing with the wind.  
“My Lord!” she greeted as the carriage came to a halt. “What an unexpected surprise.”  
Rod smiled fully, stepping out onto the road. “Lady Alma. Your beauty remains untarnished.” He gently kissed her hand, causing a blush to appear on her face.  
“You’re too kind,” Alma replied. “Please, come inside. You must be thirsty.”  
“I am indeed,” Rod said.  
He followed her into her quaint cottage. It was a place she could be free from any distractions, which was perfect for what was about to happen. Once the door closed behind them, their lips met with a fiery passion. Behind closed doors, they were no longer lord and maidservant but simply two long-time lovers reuniting.  
\----------------------  
“After all this time, you’ve still got it,” Rod said, running his hand down her bare back.  
“Anything for you, Rod. You look like you've got something on your mind. Was it not to your satisfaction completely?” Alma replied in a sultry tone, the sheet slipping slightly off her shoulder.  
“Oh, trust me. You’ve always known how to satisfy me just as I know how to satisfy you.” He proved by kissing a sensitive spot in her neck.  
“There was never any doubt. But you're avoiding the question, my love. What prompted this surprise visit? Surely there must be something more than just an overwhelming desire to see me,” she purred.  
Rod sighed. “Alma, I figured out a way for you to come back.”  
She sat up quickly, fully disregarding her state of undress. “Rod, don't tease me! Do you really mean that?”  
He gave her that winning smile she always loved. “I do.”  
“When, and what will I need? I would leave today if it means returning with you.” Her eyes glittered with hope.  
He sat up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “Well, eventually, you’ll need clothes.”  
“I suppose that would be the decent thing to do.” A pleasurable sound escaped her lips and she almost succumbed to his advances once more until a thought occurred to her. “What about… her?” Alma’s eyes darkened as her face turned hard and cold.  
“Greta will not be a problem, my love,” Rod assured, releasing his grip on her.  
“I wasn't referring to Greta.” Alma responded, scanning his eyes. “What about… the child?”  
“I think it’s time to put Historia out of our lives. As soon as we reach the city, I will get rid of her. She has done nothing but cause you pain and stress. We have no more use of her.”  
Alma leaned over and kissed him tenderly. “You always know exactly what to say to make my day better. How soon do we need to leave, love?”  
“That depends.” He gave her an impish look. “How much more of this can you take?”  
“As much as you're willing to give me, as anytime I get to spend with you.” Her expression turned lusty again, and they gave in to the dark desires of their flesh once more.  
\----------------------  
Straightening his jacket, Rod heaved another sigh. His illegitimate daughter never knew who he was to her. True, she knew him as the lord of this farmland, but not the fact that he was her father. It was going to be a shocking revelation, though he knew it would be temporary. All of this was. “Kenny, please keep an eye on Alma while I speak with my daughter,” he requested.  
“Sure thing, boss,” the man responded, flashing Alma an unsettling smirk. “It’s been a while, maid.”  
Alma glared at him, a slight shiver running down her spine. Kenny had always made her uneasy, though she was unable to put her finger on why that was, exactly. “I wish I could say the pleasure was all mine, but I think that would be Rod’s line.” Her uncouth comment fell easily from her curled lips.  
Kenny chuckled. “Haven’t changed a bit. Your comebacks still suck.”  
“Kenny, for once, shut up,” Rod ordered, opening the door to the main estate.  
Inside, the adorable, blonde girl from earlier, gazing up at him with blue eyes of wonder. As expected, she was dressed in red vest and white shirt like she usually wore when she was working, and her skirt was a bit dirty. She was probably scrubbing the floors earlier.  
Rod removed his hat and said, “Historia, my name’s Rod Reiss. I wish we could’ve met sooner. You see, I’m your father.”  
The young girl’s mouth fell open and a soft gasp escaped her. “I'm afraid I don't understand, my lord. Why, I mean, how?”  
Slowly, he reached out and petted her head. “All will be explained in due time. Just come with me, Historia. Your new life awaits you.”  
Her blue eyes held confusion but she hesitantly reached a hand out toward him. “Y-yes…. Father,” she responded hesitantly.  
“That’s a good girl,” Rod said with a smile as he led her outside.  
They didn’t get five steps when Kenny whipped out his knife. “Surprise,” he said, his smirk turning into a savage grin.  
Alma screamed, taking several steps back. “Rod! What's going on? What is all this?” Her voice shook with fear.  
Kenny snapped his fingers and five men wearing dark clothes and hats stepped out of the darkness of the night, surrounding them. “He knows exactly what this is.” He, along with another man, grabbed Alma’s arms and pushed her to her knees. “The fall of Wall Maria made you reckless, old man. I suppose you thought you could get your pretty little secrets to safer ground, huh?”  
“Rod, please, don't let them do this! You promised me…” Alma began to weep.  
Rod’s expression remained neutral, not reacting to this whole thing.  
Historia was a different story. “Let Mom go!” she demanded, glaring at Kenny.  
Alma’s fear-filled eyes hardened. “She's lying! She's not my daughter, I don't even know her!” She cried loudly, desperately trying to save herself. “Do whatever you want with her. Just please, let me go!”  
“That a fact?” Kenny looked at Rod. “Well, Lord Reiss? Maybe it was just a coincidence you three were out here at this time.”  
Rod looked down at Historia, who looked so terrified. He let out a sigh and let his daughter go. “So be it. That is correct. These two have nothing to do with me.”  
“I thought so,” Kenny replied, shoving Alma down further.  
“Rod, you bastard! You promised me…” she screamed, tears streaming down her face.  
“Shut up,” Kenny said, bringing the knife closer to her face. “You were never officially employed at this estate. Hell, I would reckon that you don’t even exist.”  
Alma knew then her fate was as good as sealed. “No, please! I'm begging you. Just let me live! Please! Don't do this,” she pleaded frantically. Her words fell on deaf ears.  
Slowly, Historia approached her, trying not to cry. “M-Mother…”  
Alma’s cold eyes looked up to meet that of the child she never wanted. “If only you'd never been born! Then I--”  
A slash from Kenny’s knife silenced her for good, blood from her slit throat spraying the ground. The man released her, and Alma’s body fell to the ground. Historia couldn’t move or speak, the book she had been carrying falling out of her hand.  
Kenny tsked. “Well, she was an ugly bitch anyways. You’ll thank me someday, kid.” He walked up to her and prepared to kill her the same, the knife still slick with her mother's blood.  
“Wait,” Rod said suddenly. “Not like this.”  
The murderer raised an eyebrow. “What?”  
“Arrange to have her join the military. Let her find her purpose there as Titan food.”  
Kenny chuckled, shoving the girl into the hands of the other men. “As you command, my lord.”  
Not a single word of protest left Historia’s mouth, still frozen in shock.  
Rod turned to her one final time before he departed. “One last thing. No longer will you be Historia Reiss. Your name is Krista Lenz.” His tone left no room for argument.  
Nothing more was said as the newly-christened Krista was taken away.  
“Well, time to go home,” Kenny announced jovially, putting the knife away.  
For once, Rod agreed with him. He entered the carriage and had the driver immediately depart, leaving Alma’s lifeless body behind in the dust. His work here was done.  
\----------------------  
The lake that was four miles away from the Reiss estate was always a place Rod’s brother liked to frequent back when he was alive. It was tranquil, quiet, and perfect for people that wanted to be alone. Rod could only imagine what Uri would say if he was still alive. He probably would’ve offered age-old wisdom in some shape or form. Rod’s musings were interrupted when Greta and Kenny approached from behind, the latter of which taking everything in stride.  
“Were you followed?” Greta asked, anxious about the whole situation.  
“Relax, sweetheart,” Kenny replied, taking off his hat. “Uncle Kenny has you covered.”  
Greta practically seethed at that remark. “This is no laughing matter.”  
“Oh, just lighten up already,” Kenny complained with a shake of his head. “The whore is dead and the kid's off to get eaten by Titans. Shouldn't you be breaking out the booze right now?”  
“Enough!” Rod intervened, not in the mood to deal with Kenny's crap. “The situation has become precarious. Someone leaked the information about us to Grisha.”  
“Hold it right there,” Greta cut in angrily. “What do you mean that she's off to be eaten by Titans? She's supposed to be lifeless beside that former whore of yours, Rod! What are you playing at?”  
“I don’t care what you think of her, Greta,” Rod said without looking at her. “She may not be your daughter, but she is still mine. As a Reiss, she deserves to at least die a good death.”  
“What, you mean I’m not good enough?” Kenny objected with an insulted look. “That hurts, Rod. That cuts me.”  
Rod glared at him. “I honestly could care less, Kenny.”  
“Still, would’ve been nice to get to know the kid,” he lamented. “She was a born firespitter. Hell, most of your kids are. Little Flo still has time.” He chuckled. “Uncle Kenny can teach her a thing or two.”  
“Don’t you dare talk about my children,” Greta ordered, her death glare putting Rod’s to shame.  
Kenny rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, you take one kid on a field trip, and you lose it.”  
When Greta had discovered the truth of what had transpired at the Garber Estate several sleepless nights later from a traumatized Urklyn, the entire household knew of her anger. “HOW DARE YOU EXPOSE HIM TO SUCH AN ATROCITY?!” Greta thundered. “To hell with your need to ‘show him what becomes of those who endanger our family’ or whatever bullshit line you're trying to use as a fucking excuse! HE IS A BOY, Rod!” She emphasized, “A YOUNG TEENAGE BOY! Not a man! He's barely spoken to his sisters, and he shakes with fear whenever Ackerman is in the house. YOU ARE A MONSTER FOR PUTTING HIM THROUGH WHAT YOU DID!”  
It was another week after that so-called “exchange” before Greta spoke to her husband directly once more. Her fury and disdain boiled before finally cooling when Rod placated her by offering a weak apology to Urklyn for the graphic, hellish scenes that he had borne witness to that stormy night. Kenny, of course, didn’t regret a damn thing, and Greta hated him to his core. While she couldn’t get rid of him permanently, she could at least ban him from the estate itself. The lake was the best workaround for said ban.  
“If you two could please focus?” Rod asked calmly. “Alma and Historia are no longer our problem, but it does not solve the other issues. We need to find the person or persons responsible for the leak, and get rid of them fast. No one is above suspicion.”  
“Hey, hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Kenny asked.  
“Exactly what I said.” Rod turned to face him. “I know you don’t like me, Kenny. For all I know, you were the one who told Grisha about my daughter.”  
“Oh, come on, Rod. I’m a loyal servant to the crown.” He gave one of his mock-bows. “Surely, what could I gain from letting some crazy guy into your home so he could go on a killing spree?”  
Greta walked up to him until the two were nose-to-nose… well, as much as her height would allow. “I, for one, hope you are responsible, Kenny. It will finally give me the excuse to kill you, loathsome parasite, once and for all.”  
His response was an evil grin as he stared down at her. “Well, in that case, I hope it is me so I can watch you try.”  
“Can I get through a simple conversation without these pointless interruptions and bickerings?” Rod demanded. “We destroyed the leak with Garbers two years ago, but information is still circulating. As I said, no one is above suspicion, and I will find out who’s responsible one way or another.”  
“And how are you going to do that?” Greta wondered.  
“I go back and find out who the Garbers associated themselves with. From the servants to the nobles, I will get names. I don’t care how long it takes.”  
“Damn, Rod. You’re really fired up today,” Kenny commented.  
“My family is at risk, Kenny,” he explained. “Traitors will not get any mercy from me.”  
Kenny snorted. “I think you mean ‘Traitors will not get any mercy from Kenny the Ripper while I sit on my fat ass doing nothing.’”  
“Get out of my sight,” Rod growled.  
“By your command, Your Majesty.” With another mock-bow, Kenny departed from their presence.  
“Rod, what will you tell Frieda?” Greta asked once the man was out of earshot.  
“She tried to flee out of fear seeing her mother’s gruesome murder, and she was gunned down,” he answered simply. “Her body was burned to ashes and scattered on the farmland she held so dear.”  
“Good.” There was still an edge in her tone, indicating that there was more to be said.  
Rod let out a sigh. “I don’t suppose an apology would be enough, would it?”  
“You had a child with another woman, Rod,” she said. “That’s not something you can just let go and forgive.” She turned her blue eyes on him. “What did you do when you saw her?”  
“I gave her one last day to be happy.”  
Greta looked more than a bit disgusted by that. “I hope that gave you some satisfaction, because that's the last attention you'll be having for quite some time.”  
“I understand, Greta.” Rod had the decency to look a little bit ashamed.  
She started to walk away, but then she stopped. “What did I do wrong that Alma didn’t, Rod?” Three years ago, she was far angrier to ask such a question, but now, she wanted the truth.  
“She understood me like no one else has,” Rod answered honestly. “I’m sorry, Greta, but it’s the truth.”  
Greta felt something filling up in her eyes. “I understand you enough to know what you are: an egocentric, adulterous pig.” This time, she made the effort to walk away without looking back.  
Rod heaved another sigh as he skipped a stone across the lake. Greta had every right to be angry with him, but there was nothing she could do about it. Any normal couple would have divorced by this point, but that wasn’t an option for the Reiss family. You were either in the family for life, or you were dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hated writing this chapter, wasting the implied sex scene on the worst people within the fandom. My editor for this story ships Alma with Shou Tucker from FMA, for anyone who understands that reference. Let me know what you think so far.


	4. Ashes of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We posted this early so we can take Christmas off and spend time with our families. Have a Merry Christmas and we'll see you in the New Year with the next chapter.

Chapter Four: Ashes of Memories

Naïveté did not always equate to lack of observation skills. This was especially true for Florian. Few people gave her the credit she deserved, and she had certainly been catching the shift in tensions that had occurred several days prior. Her mother was not looking her father in the eyes, and many times now, she had caught Frieda wiping a tear from her eyes when she thought nobody was watching. Her eldest sister had also spent more time than usual “training” in the crystal caves, returning nightly with puffy eyes. They weren’t the type that came from shifting back from Titan form, or so she had been told. As of yet, she hadn't actually witnessed this particular phenomenon for herself even when Grisha attacked. Her mother made sure of that.   
Now, though, Frieda was on the move, heading towards the stables. She wasn’t dressed for horseback riding, so that meant she would be taking a carriage somewhere. The way she carried herself, something was wrong.   
Florian hiked up her skirt just enough so she could run after her. “Frieda, wait!” she yelled once she got close enough.  
Frieda paused, turning to look at her sister. “What is it, Flo? Did you need something?” she asked, quickly wiping the random tear that had slipped down her cheek. Damn these emotions flaring up again.   
Panting a bit, Florian composed herself. “Where are you going?”  
“I-I just need a break from everything going on here. It's feeling so stifling. I can't think straight. I'm going to the farmstead for the day.” She paused and eyed her baby sister. I haven't spent much time with her and she's certainly not as grating as Abel. “Would you care to join me?” she asked softly.  
Florian’s eyes widened a bit. “R-Really?” Huh. And here I thought I would have to convince her to let me come along. “Sure. I mean, if you really want me to.”  
A slight pained expression flashed across Frieda's face. I forgot how many similarities Flo shared with her… that's just how she used to respond to me. “Of course. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want your company.”   
A brief conversation with one of the drivers had them on their way in a matter of minutes. Frieda sat in silence for nearly the entire trip, her gaze locked out the window. They even passed the Wall border of Sina, entering into Wall Rose’s territory. It prompted her to finally turn to her sister and ask, “Did you already finish your studies for the day?”  
She nodded. “Handed over my essay to the tutor this morning. He was quite impressed with what I had written down.” She seemed quite proud of herself.  
“What's Mother had to say about your progress with the tutor? I hope she hasn't been as hard on you as she was on me.” Frieda grimaced at the painful memories.  
“Pretty sure Mom wants me to start eating books,” Florian noted with a chuckle. “Maybe she just wants to look good at the dinner parties.” She adopted a faux-accent. “Why, yes. Take a look at my brilliant children. Look how smart they’ve been raised. That makes me Queen Smarty-Pants. I’m so smart I don’t even wear pants.”  
Frieda cracked up before adding another quip of her own. “Trousers are for men, or only during times of combat. One mustn't show their undergarments, even in the midst of conflict.” She adopted a similar mocking tone. “It's not becoming to a woman, and we must strive to maintain an air of propriety at all times.”  
Florian giggled. “Mom would kill us if she knew we talked like this.”  
Frieda sobered slightly. “Well, she wouldn't kill us, but I'm sure there’d be ‘punishment fitting to the crimes’ or some such nonsense.” She snorted and looked at Florian, beginning to giggle again. “I used to try and push her buttons to the edge of punishment but stop short of actually receiving any. It was fun, until she caught on. Then I was grounded for a month.”  
Florian grew quiet for a moment, fiddling with her fingers. “I doubt she even has a sense of humor.”  
“I wouldn't go that far. Yes, she is harsh but I've seen her laugh occasionally. Take note of what causes it when it happens though, because of how rare it is.” Frieda replied gently. She exhaled softly and gestured to the window. “Flo! Look. We’re nearing the farm.”  
The road had gone from being surrounded by buildings to the more open fields of gold and green, laden with crops that were ripening. The trees were also beginning their annual color display, vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow and green dotting the gentle hills. Frieda opened the window of the carriage and took a deep breath, relishing the sweet air and serene nature that was the smaller countryside estate.   
Florian soon joined her, a grin adorned on her face. “It’s been so long. I haven’t seen the leaves change in years. I think it was four years ago. You and Urklyn competed to make the biggest leaf pile imaginable. Remember that?”  
Frieda threw her head back laughing. “Oh gods. I almost forgot about that. He was so desperate to win that he tried to sabotage my efforts. So I shoved as many leaves as I could down his shirt and pants.”  
“And the Great Leaf war began,” Florian continued. “Innocent, fallen leaves crushed beneath the feet of the combatants, their broken bodies used as weapons against your face. Truly, a tragic day for all leafkind.”  
“You know, if you keep up your creative descriptive skills, you would make a pretty awesome storyteller, Flo.” Frieda looked at her sister with a warm smile, her mood lifting from the dark place it had been the past several days.   
“I was thinking more along the lines of poetry,” she admitted. “I’d love to give that a try. Think about it. Any person, any place, any thing, any concept up for grabs, like why we haven’t come back here for the past four years.”  
The carriage came to a slow halt in front of the orchards.To the left, the cottage sat nestled between the barn and the hay fields. A lush vineyard stretched over the hills to their right. Frieda jumped down from the carriage and offered her sister a hand down, stretching slightly as the carriage pulled over by the barns. The driver knew from experience bringing Frieda out here meant there would be several hours to give the horses a break before they would return to the main estate.   
“I don’t think I’ve been to this area before,” Florian said, looking around. “It’s so quiet over here.”  
“It’s been several years since Dad has brought the whole family out here.” Frieda stopped short, and turned to Florian. “Can you keep a secret?”  
“Like how you took the last cookie and framed Abel for it?” Florian asked. “I think I can keep another one.”  
“Not quite like that. I mean, swear to me, truly swear to Goddess Ymir that you won't tell anyone this secret. Can you promise me that you will keep what I tell you a secret?” Frieda pushed, her tone suddenly serious.  
The youngest member of the family nodded. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I won’t tell anyone.”  
Frieda let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. “Let’s take a walk. There's a reason that Father hadn't brought us out here in several years.”  
Florian looked confused but she caught up to her sister within a couple of paces. “You mean it was more than just Mother wanting us to focus on only our studies?” she asked slowly.   
“I wish it was as simple as that. But the reason that Father didn't want us out here was because… of Historia.” Frieda whispered her name.   
“Historia?” Florian questioned, the name foreign on her tongue.   
“ Yes. Historia Reiss.” Acknowledging her sister's look of utter shock, Frieda’s voice remained low as she began the recount the memories to Florian. 

\-------------------

Six months had passed since Frieda had taken the serum and become the Coordinate Titan shifter. Day after day was spent in the crystal caves, with Rod pushing her through the grueling task of mastering the Titan form and familiarizing herself with the abilities it contained.   
As a reward to mark the completion of what Rod deemed to be satisfactory training, he took her to the farmstead for several days’ respite. Frieda always enjoyed the farmlands her father owned, especially in autumn, but she enjoyed the tranquility of this place more so than ever. It allowed her to put the burdens of the world off her shoulders and truly relax. Fate had other plans.  
She had been passing by the cottage on her way back to the orchards after several hours of riding, but an unusual sound had her lingering more than she should have.   
“Rod! Your daughter is here. You don't want her hearing us and coming to investigate, now do you?” The woman's tone held plenty of lust mixed with a touch of scolding.   
Frieda froze in her place. She hadn't heard that voice in years, but it was unmistakable who it was: Alma, a former maidservant in the Reiss estate. The woman did her duties well, but she didn't like the children. She saw them as bothersome thorns in her side. Frieda wasn't fond of her and shed no tears when Alma was let go eight years ago. The only one who seemed to miss her was her father… who Alma called by his first name.  
“You worry too much, Alma. She's a teenager. What's the worst that can happen? She's already had her education on what happens when a man and a woman love each other. Something you don't need any lessons in.” Rod’s lecherous tone was unmistakable as the repetitive thunking noise continued.   
Bile rose in Frieda’s throat as she put two and two together. All the times her siblings were over here, Rod vanished for long periods of time. It became clear what the real reason for these visits were about. Covering her mouth to keep herself from making a sound, she raced back toward the field of haystacks, finally vomiting by one of the fence posts.  
“Miss, are you okay?” a soft, young voice asked behind her.   
Frieda fought to regain her composure, her stomach finally easing its heaving. She leaned on the fence post to keep her weak knees from collapsing, and glanced over to find the source of the voice.   
Standing with a half-full basket of apples in her arms was a small girl with blonde hair and silver eyes, wearing a plain gray dress and simple apron. She looked far too young for Rod to have hired her on, meaning she must have been the child of one of the servants on the property. Her eyes held concern and she frowned slightly at Frieda. “Did you eat something that upset your stomach?”  
“N-Not quite. I'm fine. But thank you for your concern.” Frieda straightened, withdrawing a handkerchief to wipe her face clean. “I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new here?”  
The girl shook her head. “No, miss. I've been here as long as I can remember. I was taught to keep my distance or hide when the lord of the land came visiting though because he's often cross when he comes to visit,” she replied stoically.   
Frieda grimaced, knowing the girl referred to her father. He wasn't known for having the best of moods, especially when it came to the servants. “And what might your name be?” she gently asked.   
“Historia,” she answered, giving a polite bow. “My mother is also here, though she doesn't seem to work like everyone else here does. She prefers to sit out and read under a tree. Unless the lord is here. Then she takes him into the cottage for tea and they talk for a long time. Sometimes, there's funny noises, too, but Mother says that's just him helping to fix the plumbing.” Historia’s eyes drooped. “I got scolded last time I went back after finishing my chores because he was still at the house. So now, I take extra time on the days he's here.”   
Frieda nodded slowly, her mind reeling from what she'd just heard and learned. She looked again at the face of the girl, recognizing now what her silver eyes meant. “I just passed by the cottage, and they are still having their discussion. How about I read you a story to help pass some of the time?” she found herself offering.   
Historia’s eyes brightened up. “I like stories! But… I don't know how to read.” Her countenance dimmed once more and she picked up her basket to go.  
“Don't worry. You can look at the pictures and I'll work on teaching you, okay? I helped teach my younger brothers and sisters to read, too.” Frieda smiled and offered a hand to the younger girl. “What do you say? Are you willing to give it a shot?”  
“Okay! I'll do it. But I don't know your name.” Historia took her hand and looked up at her face with a beaming grin.   
“Frieda. I'm Frieda Reiss. My father is the lord of the land here. And it's a pleasure to meet you.” 

\---------------------------

“I spent the rest of the afternoon with her, sharing stories and teaching her how to read,” Frieda glanced over at Florian to gauge her reaction. “You can imagine how Father reacted when he found me with her later that evening.”  
As expected, Florian was dumbstruck as she tried to digest these revelations. She knew her father wasn't a saint, but to learn that he had a mistress… it was sickening. When she managed to find her voice again, she said, “Not well, knowing Father.”  
“He ordered me to cease spending time with her, but I refused, choosing instead to swear I would keep her existence a secret. It still wasn't enough to satisfy his paranoia. Before we left the following evening, he forced me to erase her memories of me. He said it must be done, ‘for the good of the family’.” The words hung heavy in the air as Frieda leaned and then sat heavily against one of the fruit trees.  
Florian followed suit, dropping her head into her hands. Her sister hadn't been kidding about this being a massive secret. She had another sister! And close to her age. Unfortunately, one detail gnawed at her. “Frieda, did you say you wiped her memories away?”  
Seeing Florian's troubled expression, Frieda immediately responded, “Florian, I swear I have never done that to you or any of our siblings. It's just an ability I have thanks to the… holy inheritance.” There was a subtle note of contempt in her tone on those last words.  
Florian breathed a sigh of relief before focusing on the fact she had another sister. “Frieda, where's Historia now? Why haven't we seen her then if this is her home?” The question tumbled from her mouth unchecked.   
Frieda’s breath caught in her throat. She knew the question was inevitable yet it didn't make it any easier to respond to. “S-she's dead.” Her voice cracked as she began to weep. “She died last week at the hand of a murderer.” She hiccuped, tears flowing down her face and hands.   
Florian suspected that was the case. The general melancholy in Frieda's tone gave it away. Still, it broke her heart that she lost a sister she never knew. Florian wrapped her arms around Frieda’s shoulders, her own tears falling into the older girl’s hair. “I’m so sorry, sister. I didn't mean to make you cry.”  
Frieda returned the hug, pulling her sister onto her lap and holding her tightly. “I spent a lot of time out here with her. I taught her to read and write, and what it meant to be a young lady. More than anything though, I wanted to tell her that she had siblings and a family. She confided in me that she was lonely.” Her voice became venomous as she continued. “Alma never showed her affection. Historia never told me what the woman did, but I could tell she barely lifted a finger for her own daughter. Historia was always working and underfed. Alma didn't even bother to think about Historia's existence. I should have done something, damn it!”   
Florian stiffened at her sister's raised voice. She knew it wasn't directed at her, but Frieda was always scary when she was angry.  
“But I didn't.” Frieda shook as she began to weep. “Every single time I gave her a happy memory, I took them away. I submitted to our father, and that beautiful girl paid the price.”  
There was nothing Florian could do to make Frieda feel better. She just let herself be held by her grieving sister. If there was a life after death, Florian hoped to meet Historia there. Until then, she would take care of her family.  
When Frieda was ready, the two sisters walked down the dirt road, passing by a tall tree. Florian noticed a tombstone in front of it, promoting her to ask, “Is that where Historia is?”  
“No,” Frieda said in a low tone. “That's where Alma is laid for her eternal slumber. She was killed by the same murderer that killed Historia.”   
“And the murderer?” Florian added.  
“Some dirtbag who wanted to get rich and thought he could do so by blackmailing Father, something about having knowledge of one of his secrets. Just before they could have their scheduled meeting to discuss this, however, the man double-crossed him.” Frieda paused to choose her next words carefully. “To quote him directly: Alma was his first victim, then Historia was killed when she was trying to flee. Unfortunately, Father showed up too late to save them. He was able to eliminate their killer himself.” Frieda replied with a cringe.   
“So, that means…” Florian’s voice trailed off when they came upon an apple tree that wasn't nearly as grandiose as Alma's tree. It was smaller, but it provided just the right amount of shade, and Frieda’s paced noticeably slowed. “This area had meaning to you both, didn't it?”  
“Yes. This is where we came and sat the day I met her. It became the place we could count on seeing each other if I was able to visit.” Tears brimmed in her eyes once more. “They burned her body and scattered the ashes in this area, returning her to the countryside she adored so much.”   
Florian took her sister's arm and wrapped it around her own waist. “Do you have anything you want to say to her?” Her tender question had the tears falling freely down Frieda’s face once more.   
Mustering the small semblance of control she had over her emotions, she nodded and knelt by the tree. This time instead of the elder sister being the strong one, it was Florian acting as her comfort while the young Queen composed her thoughts.  
“Historia, it's Frieda. I... you-you always said you wanted to be like me when you grew up. I knew you saw me as a sister.” Frieda choked momentarily then plowed on. “I never told you, because I didn't want it to be a memory that would be taken from you, but I was truly your older sister, and I loved you, more than I could express.” She sniffed hard, Florian's hand rubbing small circles on her back. “Fate took you from us far too soon. Perhaps in the afterlife I'll have a chance to make amends for all that I didn't tell you. But know this: you were worth more than you were ever led to believe. I pray that Goddess Ymir has mercy on your soul, and that someday, we shall meet again.” The words hung softly in the air for a moment before a slight breeze picked up and rustled the leaves of the tree and the hair of the two girls sitting below.  
Florian gasped softly, her eyes flying to meet her sister’s. “It's no coincidence that the breeze picked up just then. The Goddess will relay your message to Historia for us,” she assured Frieda, her faith strong and sure.  
Frieda said nothing as two stood in silence, taking in this place.  
When the sun started to sink behind the walls, Frieda guided them back to where the carriage now awaited. She doubted she would ever come back.   
Taking the seat beside her sister, Florian rested her head on Frieda’s shoulder and let out a soft sound. “I hope she's at peace, wherever she might be right now. Historia…” she mused. “I can see why she loved this area so much.” A soft yawn escaped her, the emotions of the day catching up with her.   
Frieda silently agreed, her mind scrolling through everything that transpired. She couldn't raise the dead, but she could make a vow. I won't let anything happen to Florian. I failed Historia, but I sure as hell won't fail my baby sister.  
When the silent vow was complete, Frieda wrapped her arm around Florian. Fools like Grisha would soon realize the cost was never too high. She would do whatever it took to protect her family.


	5. Poise and Propriety

Fucking stupid dress. Whatever bitch came up with this dress needs to burn in Hell!   
The dress in question had no fault in and of itself. It was a tea-length, empire-waisted dress in navy blue with puffy capped sleeves, a starched collar, and a large ribbon bow at the back. Decorative embroidery ordained the bodice of the dress. Every inch of it spelled fashion and it was impossible to move freely in, hence the reason for Abel’s inner tirade. She fidgeted with the embroidery. “Damn thing itches. I hate these ‘fancy family dinners.’”  
“Hey, Abel, how do I look?” a familiar voice asked. Florian twirled in her sleeveless, high-low hemmed cobalt blue dress, the fullness in the skirt flaring out as she spun. “Not as nice as yours, but I think I pull off the ‘Noble’ title pretty well.”  
“It's cute. Least it doesn't look as stupid as mine. I look like those porcelain dolls that stand on the windowsills and collect dust because nobody gives a s-damn.” Abel caught herself before she let the word slip that would've definitely landed her in hot water.  
“Don’t worry, big sister,” Florian assured. “You don’t look as stupid as those dolls.”   
“Gee, thanks. Your vote of confidence overwhelms me,” Abel retorted sarcastically.   
There was a knock on their door. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but dinner is almost ready.”  
“Thanks for the warning, Dirk,” Florian replied.  
“Thanks for announcing our doom, you mean,” Abel muttered grumpily.  
Florian looked at her sister with pleading eyes. “Abel, I know I can’t tell you what to do--.”  
“Damn right, you can’t.”  
“--but please don’t fight this time.”  
“I can't always help it. She just pisses me off so much! Little-miss-perfect, ‘Look at me, everyone! I'm the queen!’ Queen of sh-crap,” Abel mocked, irritation evident in her tone.   
“Well, the Queen of Crap can get bigger now,” she reminded her.   
“Doesn't mean she's any less of a bitch.”  
Florian sighed, hugging her older sister. “I wish we were a normal family.”  
“Me too, Flo. Me too…” Abel trailed off. Their family had never been truly normal. But it had definitely escaped the bounds of all unusual society when her sister took the serum and became a monster. Nothing had been the same since that day, and it never would be.   
Another knock at the door sounded off with Dirk humming what appeared to be the funeral march.  
Florian giggled. “You’re so silly, Dirk.”  
“You girls decent yet?” he asked.  
“No, we’re still in our birthday suits,” Abel quipped.   
Florian rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. We’re good.”  
Dirk opened the door, showing his typical dinner suit once more. Black coat, white shirt, black tie, black pants, and shiny shoes. “Whoever created ties needs to be hung by them.”  
“We’ll keep that in mind the next time we meet them, Dirk,” Abel winked at him, then taking a deep breath in mental preparation for the aforementioned doom.   
Dirk smirked. “Well, if you two are able, it’s time to go with the flow.”  
Florian rolled her eyes again and sighed. “This is going to be a long dinner… again.” She inwardly prayed that there wouldn’t be another food fight this time.  
Making their way down the stairs, the trio entered the opulent dining hall. Elaborate tapestries decorated the walls on either side of the long table. Behind the head of the table, large bay windows overlooked the manicured lawn and gardens. At the foot of the table was the fireplace, the large painting of Ymir Fritz in her royal splendor hanging prominently above the mantelpiece.  
Rod was already seated at the head of the table, with Greta seated on his right, and Frieda across from her on his immediate left. Urklyn was crossing the room to take a seat beside Frieda, creating the next open seat for Abel next to her mother. Dirk pretended to trip on the thick carpeting, landing on the back of his chair with his hands propping up his chin. He shot a wink at Florian who giggled softly until a pointed look from Rod had him stiffening and sliding into the seat beside his brother.   
Once all the siblings were seated, Rod gestured to the servants to begin serving plates. Upon checking that all seated had received their dishes for the first course, he raised an eyebrow at Frieda.   
Lifting her eyes to the painting at the foot of the hall and her hands toward the heavens, she offered a brief prayer. “Our eternal Goddess Ymir, we, your humble descendants, do offer up thanks for the provisions you've given to us, including your holy inheritance. Look with favor upon us, and pour out your blessings on this family and this food. May you strengthen and sustain us. Amen.”  
Murmurs of pious “amen”s were echoed by the other family members and the sound of silverware clattering as they began to slowly eat their meal.   
Abel wondered to herself silently if everyone else was truly in agreement with the sentiments spoken by Frieda in her prayer but such questions would be considered sacrilegious to ask, so she chose to keep them to herself. She allowed herself to slouch slightly in the chair, her back aching and itching from the stiff material of the hated dress.   
“So, Dad, how was the play?” Dirk asked.  
“Your mother enjoyed it,” Rod answered, taking a sip of wine.  
The younger brother smirked. “That bad, huh?”  
“The story of the star-crossed lovers is a classic, quintessential story. It makes sense that he wouldn't understand the simple love that one person might have for another.” Greta spoke for the first time since they had been seated, her thinly-veiled anger seeping into the remark.   
“I happen to enjoy the story myself. I recall the first time I saw it performed as opposed to reading it. It was rather breathtaking,” Frieda chimed in.   
“Oh, yeah. I had to write an essay on that story,” Florian remembered.  
“I wasn't a fan of it compared to some of the other stories by the same author, but it's to be expected that women would enjoy it more than we do.” Urklyn added, taking a small bite of his meal.   
Four pairs of eyes immediately landed on him while the remaining two kept their distance.  
His eyes swept over the table, catching the looks he was receiving from the fairer sex. “What? It was just an observation. Am I wrong?”  
“I thought it was kinda dumb,” Florian, of all people, said.  
“But why?” Frieda asked, setting her fork down momentarily.   
“They fell in love with each other in one day and married the next day,” she explained. “Then, she supposedly dies to avoid an arranged marriage but not really, and her husband loses it and kills himself because he thinks she's dead. Then, she wakes, finds him dead, and kills herself.” She looked at her mother and Frieda. “They seemed mentally unstable.”  
Dirk nearly spat out his food, trying to contain his laughter with Abel not far behind.  
Greta gave her middle daughter and son a harsh look. “Remember your manners, please.”  
Dirk coughed, swallowing his morsel. “Sorry, Mother.” Rule number 4: no humor at dinner.  
Abel ducked her head slightly. “I'm sorry, Mother.” Not sorry for laughing though. It WAS a stupid, shitty story, and I don't understand why we had to read it in the first place.  
“Well, that was an interesting observation,” Rod commented, traces of a smirk trying to sell him out. “And what did your tutor say?”  
“He said, 'If you can take one lesson away from this story, it's that poor communication kills’.” Florian spoke quickly.   
“Well said,” Rod responded with a nod.   
“And he also mentioned never to read Oedipus Rex.” Florian added as an afterthought.   
For perhaps the first time in the history of their family, a collective groan went up from each member of the Reiss household.   
“Why would you even bring up that hideous excuse for a book?” Abel glared at her younger sister.   
“What, isn't about an extinct form of dinosaur or some other such monster?” Florian’s innocence shone through the question she posed.   
“No, it's Uncle Kenny's memoir,” Urklyn snarked.  
That did it. Dirk and Abel couldn't contain themselves. Their silverware clattered onto the table as they cackled from that statement. Even Frieda was covering her mouth to try and stifle her own giggles.  
“Children… please!” Greta tried to maintain her composure to bring things back into order, but failed, finally chuckling softly herself.   
Not even the stoic Rod could keep the smirk off his face.  
Florian, however, was quite befuddled by their reaction. “What does Uncle Kenny have to do with the story?”  
“When you're older, you'll understand,” Rod promised.  
For the first time in a while, Abel found herself enjoying the time they were having together. Even the itchy dress she wore didn't seem to bother her as much as before. With the laughter easing up, Abel spoke up. “I wish we didn't have to hide behind a fake king.”  
“Kind of feels like we're living a lie,” Urklyn replied in agreement.  
“Wouldn't it be nice if, someday, we can just tell the world who we really are?” Abel went on.  
“Where did that come from?” Greta asked, surprised.   
“I don't know. It's just something I've been thinking about.” Abel finished lamely.  
“I don't suppose it would make much sense to you. I mean, you are still a kid, after all.” Frieda’s tone dripped with condescension. “Being the royal family publicly would paint a target on my back, as well as on Father’s. Hell, it would even make life more miserable for you. Is that really what you want?”  
Abel slowly looked at the eldest sibling and replied, “Why, yes. I would love to be miserable and have the entire family be put at risk. Thank you so much for offering.”  
Frieda glared at her. “Thank you so much for your concern, you little bitch. You act like you don't care about anyone else, just about your image. You'd probably be proud to be painted as a target if it means you get your time in the spotlight as the center of attention, now wouldn't you?!” She snapped venomously.  
“Frieda, behave yourself,” Greta rebuked. “You are the keeper of the holy inheritance. Act like it.”  
“That’d be a first,” Abel muttered.  
“Shut your mouth, you ignorant little ingrate! You know nothing about what it's like to be in my position.” Frieda spat. “About what it took to get me to where I am now. Show me some respect, damn it!”  
“Well, maybe you'd get more respect if you quit acting like a holier-than-thou bitch,” Abel fired back. “You preach about how tough you have it. Look at yourself. You're like one of those high-end prostitutes!”  
“HOW DARE YOU--” Frieda pushed herself to her feet angrily.   
Abel shot to her feet as well. “Tell me something: have you actually done anything besides having our uncle for dinner?”  
“ENOUGH! Abel, hallway now. Frieda, sit yourself down right this minute. This is no way for a Queen to behave.” Greta thundered, standing and leading Abel outside the dining room by her elbow.   
“You wanna be Queen? Then give a fuck for someone other than yourself!” Abel shouted.  
Once the dining room doors were slammed behind them, Urklyn sighed. “We were so close.”  
The doors slamming masked the resounding slap that struck Abel’s cheek. Greta yanked her over by her ear. “Have your lessons on manners and propriety taught you nothing? You are not just addressing your eldest sister, but your ruler and queen!” The fury she felt was evident in her tone. “Such insults and vulgarities come with harsh consequences. You will be confined to your room for the next month. I also expect a handwritten formal apology to Frieda by the end of the week. I will be reviewing it personally before handing it to your sister. Do I make myself clear?”  
Abel glared daggers at her mother, her cheek stinging. “Does Frieda get to write me an apology for what she said?”  
“Frieda has no reason to apologize, so therefore she won't be issuing an apology to you.” Greta replied, matter-of-factly.   
“Then she won't get any form of an apology from me. What was the golden rule? Don't lie? Well, I'm not sorry for a damn thing I said, Mother, and if you expect me to grovel to my sister like a peasant, then you might as well start digging my grave tonight!” Abel stalked away before Greta could make a move against her.  
“You've made your punishment extend to two months, and you will not eat or drink until you've written the apology letter.” Greta called. “Perhaps you'll learn to keep that in mind the next time you decide to curse at your mother instead of responding with poise as you've been instructed.”  
Having said this, Greta returned silently into the dining room and sat back beside her husband, a maid escorting Abel to her room and standing outside the room to ensure the girl didn't leave.   
“I’m done.” Dirk stood up and walked out of the dining room.  
“Me, too.” Florian followed quickly behind him.  
“You're done when I say you can leave. You will both come sit down immediately or there will be consequences.” Greta commanded.   
“Greta, let them go,” Rod intervened at last. “Or would you rather this situation get worse with every second?”  
“You’re right. I'm sorry.” Greta returned to silently eating her meal.   
Up in her room, Abel slammed the door as hard as she could. She tore her dress off with a snarl, ripping the sleeves off in the process. She looked for something to break and she found it in the paintings on her wall. One by one, she took them down and smashed the canvasses against the wall, shattering the beautiful art. Once the last one, ironically a portrait of Frieda, was gone, she threw herself on the bed and started sobbing. How did all this happen? Three years ago, Frieda was someone she looked up to, someone she could go to for advice and comfort when her mother did things like this to her. Now, she, too, was gone. Abel was trapped in this estate with no one to turn to. By all means, she was completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, since it certainly was fun to write. Let me know what you think, and I'll see you in the next chapter.


	6. Growing Pains

If there was one advantage that Dirk had over his family, it's that he had one hell of a poker face. No one could really tell what he was actually thinking or feeling when he had his guard up. Sometimes, the moments he laughed the hardest was when he was at his angriest. When Abel was grounded cruelly, he still cracked jokes. After all, no one would suspect Dirk, the laid-back, taking-life-as-a-game brother of smuggling bread into Abel's room for the past two days. It wasn't difficult getting around the maid. After all, accidents happen. A leak here, a broken vase there. A maid's work was never finished.  
Unfortunately, Abel would have to compose the damn letter for Frieda if she wanted to keep Dirk off the hook. In exchange, Dirk promised Abel he would avenge her in his own special way. Then, she reminded him of a certain incident four years ago at a public bath where his clothes and towels mysteriously vanished and in their place was a giggling Frieda. It took an hour for his parents to show up and give him a cloak, but not before a water war broke out between the siblings. Needless to say, they had never taken a public bath since that day. A good time as any for payback in more ways than one.  
It was easy to sneak inside the bathhouse. The help had just finished preparing it for Frieda to use. Dirk left his shoes behind and wore only his socks. Easier to sneak with, all things considered. He took cover in the changing area, hiding behind the wall. Frieda would never suspect this after so much time had passed. It was going to be quite hilarious. All he had to do was wait.  
Frieda heaved a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from her brow. The workout regiment that Rod had her on for the day had been brutal to say the least. A maid had already been instructed to prepare the baths as she preferred, and the young maiden curtsied in front of her, handing her a fresh set of towels and a clean dress for dinner. "It is ready for you, Mistress." Frieda gave a curt nod and strode purposefully across the courtyard. She had just over an hour of uninterrupted time to linger in the baths before her presence would be expected in the dining hall, and she didn't plan on wasting a single moment of relaxation.  
When the door to the bathhouse opened, Dirk crouched low. There were some cracks in the walls big enough for him to see his sister. For once, he was glad that the help hadn't finished making repairs. Gods only knew this place needed some renovations.  
Frieda gave a cursory scan of the room as she stepped into the bathhouse. She was thankful that the staff her family employed was so obedient. Everything was set as she had requested, the only sound being the water in the decorative fountain on the far wall bubbling. Steam rose from the large tub in the center of the room, and Frieda sighed softly, already starting to relax. Crossing the room, she set her clean clothing on one of the benches lining the far wall, laying the towels beside them.  
Target acquired. Dirk thought with an impish grin. Once Frieda settled into the tub, he'd make his move. Four years of pent up aggression, and he would have his vengeance! However, as he waited, he got... distracted.  
Frieda paused by the bench to remove her clothing. One of the reasons she adored this private bathhouse was due to the fact that she didn't need to fear any wandering eyes. She was no prude; she knew the effect she had on men. Having moments of privacy of like this were few and far between, but oh, so welcome. Her loose tunic hit the floor first with a soft plop. She groaned, glad to be free of the sweat-laden garment. Facing the fountain with her back to the unneeded changing areas, she tugged the snug trousers she wore during the training exercises, kicking them into the same heap as the shirt.  
Dirk knew that looking away right now had to happen, but he couldn't help but be curious. He felt these urges before (his father seemed to hire the most attractive maids), and his hormones begged him to see the outcome, so he just stared.  
Frieda caught a glimpse of her face in the large mirror that her mother had just ordered to be installed by the wall fountain. Stepping slowly toward it, she reached up and undid the ribbon that tied her hair back from her face, shaking it down around her shoulders and combing her fingers through it. Satisfied that she'd removed the tangles, her hands slid over her hourglass figure and settled on her hips as she turned sideways to admire herself from one direction and then the other. She giggled softly and blew a kiss at the mirror as she turned to face it directly. Reaching her hands behind her back to unclasp her bra, she heaved a sigh of relief as the much-hated undergarment tumbled to the floor.  
Dirk told himself that getting closer meant getting closer to his goal. However, once he moved to a wall that had a better view of Frieda from the side, he saw a lot more than he should have.  
Frieda rubbed her chest under where the offending garment had been containing her breasts, causing them to bounce slightly. Damn the propriety of needing to contain them, especially so tightly when in combat! The cool air gave them the natural reaction of the nipples hardening. "What is it with all the men's fascination with these? I don't get it..." she muttered to herself wrapping an arm around her chest in an attempt to warm herself up. Using her other free hand to tug off her panties, she dropped them to the floor and turned around, taking the several steps down into the steaming water. She sank low into the water with a moan of bliss. “Father can go to hell for pushing me through those extra maneuvers, but sweet Goddess Ymir, this water feels amazing!"  
That was... something. Dirk couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the female form. However, when he felt that familiar sensation in his pelvic area, he almost vomited. That was his sister, for Goddess's sake. He felt sick to his stomach and knew he needed to focus on why he was really here. He barely managed to contain the nausea as he slowly slunk over to the bench. Get in, get out. At least the weird part was over.  
Frieda's eyes were closed in bliss as she relaxed against the side of the tub. Oh, she badly needed this. Perhaps the next request she'd make to her father would be to hire a masseuse or something similar to give her the full relaxation experience of the spa at home. Giving a soft sigh, she pulled herself up higher out of the water to grab the lavender soap and soft washcloth to begin cleansing the sweat from her skin. Both were further from her reach than she expected, and she huffed, standing fully to lean over and grab them, water dripping off her curves.  
Sister, damn it. Sister! Dirk hated how her body was making him feel. Yeah, this was definitely gonna be a payback prank. He scooped up the clothes and towels, including the dirty ones. Now, it was time to get the hell out. Fast.  
Soap and washcloth now in hand, Frieda turned to sink back into the water, her eyes landing on her youngest brother. A loud shriek of surprise left her mouth as she quickly ducked under the steaming water so only her head was visible. "DIRK! You have three seconds to explain what you're doing in here!"  
"I'm taking your stuff. Bye!" he shouted as he bolted out the door. Two seconds. Hah!  
Frieda growled low, standing and clenching her fist tightly. Her long nails dug into the flesh of her hand, drawing blood. Flesh quickly wrapped around her figure as the transformation into Titan form occurred. Ducking her head so she wouldn't hit it on the ceiling, she roared in anger and stomped a foot, causing the ground to shake and pieces of the ceiling to fall. This was ten times worse than the “harmless” prank she had pulled on Dirk four years before. She hadn't missed the bulge at the waistline of her brother's trousers, and because she hadn't seen him or heard the door open after she entered, it was easy to deduce what had just happened.

Urklyn didn't know what was going on. He saw Dirk bolt out of the bathhouse while tossing something into the bushes. Before he could chase after him, there was an explosion coming from said building along with the feral scream of an apparent banshee. He dashed over there and threw open the doors. He immediately regretted that decision.  
Frieda's massive Titan face was just behind the door, seething in barely controlled anger. "Where. Is. Dirk?" She emphasized each word, venom dripping with the individual syllables.  
"Uh... not here?" he answered fearfully.  
Frieda growled, her purple and green eyes flashing with rage. "Find him and Father. Immediately," She snapped. "And Urklyn? Have someone get me a fucking towel and clothes, NOW!"  
“Frieda, what happened?” he asked.  
“Urklyn, I swear to Goddess Ymir, if you don't shut up and get the hell out of here to take care of what I've ordered you to, I will end you here and now." Frieda raged, her lips curling as she struggled to contain another furious scream.   
Urklyn bolted from the bathhouse, inwardly preparing for Dirk's funeral.  
Naturally the entire family minus Dirk and Abel showed up. Florian freaked out initially but was quickly assured the Titan was her sister. Unfortunately, because of how tight it was, Frieda couldn't reach her nape, leaving only one option.  
"You're gonna have to bust out," Urklyn said.  
Frieda glared at her brother. "You're telling me that because our stupid, younger brother decided to become a peeping Tom on my bath time, that i have to destroy part of the bathhouse to get out of this situation?! Father, please tell me there's an alternative!"  
Rod shook his head. “I'm afraid not.”  
“Ugh! If I truly have no alternative to get out of here, everybody needs to back up as much as possible. And Father?" Frieda waited until Rod acknowledged her to continue. "If Dirk is not dealt with, I will personally make sure he's castrated the next time he pulls a stunt like that again. I won't stand for having anyone, let alone my own brother, getting off while I'm in the bath!" Her indignation was clear, and a slight dusting of pink covered even the Titan's face because of the humiliation she felt from her present circumstances.  
“What did Dirk get off?” Florian asked curiously.  
“Not now, Florian,” Greta said, her face turning red with embarrassment as realization crossed her mind. “Alright, Frieda. Come out.”  
Frieda screamed in rage once more, wrenching her shoulders through the narrow doorway and creating a gaping hole in the front wall of the building. Crouching low, she forced her way out of the room, a rain of dust and debris covering her head and shoulders. Finally free, she straightened to full Titan height once more. The addition of the Attack Titan had done more than give her a green ring in her purple eyes. She had developed more muscle tone, and was now 16 meters tall. The Coordinate and Attack Titans combined had given her a full chest and a perfect hourglass form, though it lacked some of the clear definition of the human body.   
Shaking the dust out of her hair and brushing the ceiling tile debris off her shoulders, Frieda glared at Rod. “He better have a damn good place to hide because if he doesn’t, there won’t be anything left of him by the time I’m through with him!” She thundered.   
Florian squeaked like a frightened mouse and turned away, catching her Titan of a sister's attention.  
Frieda’s eyes flew to her baby sister. “What? Do you have something to add? It's still me.”  
“Frieda, you're… naked.”  
Urklyn slapped his hand against his face. “Oh, my Gods,” he muttered.  
“You don't say? Thanks for noticing,” Frieda said sarcastically.   
“Frieda, please change back,” Greta urged.  
The Titan’s eyes flew back to Urklyn. “Where are my damn clothes?”  
“Covered in dirt and leaves, Alice,” Urklyn answered in a deadpan tone.  
“I can't shift back until I have clean ones. No exceptions,” Frieda growled.   
“I'll get them,” Greta assured. “Rod, go find your son and… he's already gone,” she finished lamely.  
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Urklyn muttered.  
“Urklyn, do us all a favor and SHUT THE HELL UP!” Frieda seethed, finally catching the reference.   
A couple of glass windows shattered from the force of her roar at last, one of them being Abel's window.  
Urklyn and Florian felt shivers run down their spines. They had never seen Frieda this angry at them before. Granted, Dirk was an idiot and humiliated their sister, but this was something else.  
Abel's head popped out the opening to do what she did best: escalate the situation. “Mom, Dad, there's an ugly monster outside! Oh, wait, that's just your daughter.”  
Greta’s eyes met that of her middle child’s. “I hope your response in such a manner means that letter is complete. I'll be up momentarily to check.” She said ominously. Frieda had begun stalking toward the window with malicious intent, but Greta interrupted. “Frieda, take a seat and calm yourself. There's no reason to reply to your sister right this moment. There's already been more than enough strife for one day. Let it go.”  
Frieda grumbled to herself, but she did as her mother said. Sitting down caused the ground to shake, but fortunately, nothing broke this time.  
“Urklyn, Florian, keep your sister company,” Greta ordered, giving them both stern looks. “I will fetch proper attire for her.”   
“Yes, ma'am,” the duo responded.  
Satisfied that things were under control, Greta entered the estate to salvage what was left of her daughter's dignity.   
“Is there anything we can do to cheer you up, Big Sis?” Florian asked.  
“Not unless you can catch our good-for-nothing brother and convince him that being a perverted asshat is not the way to go with his life.” Frieda muttered under her breath, the Titan form making the words still perfectly clear to all in the vicinity. “All I wanted was a peaceful bath.” she complained bitterly.   
Slowly, Florian approached the Titan, wishing that she was big enough to hug her. So, she improvised by plopping herself on Frieda's thigh, hugging it.  
Frieda flinched, then wrapped a hand awkwardly around her youngest sister. “Sorry you had to see me like this.” The apology held a warmth that had been lacking in the recent months.   
“What, you being a Titan?” Florian looked up from her position. “You look big and cool. I might have to call you Giant Sis now.”  
“Your giant sister, as opposed to just being your ‘big sister’,” Frieda shook her head slightly and chuckled. “Well, that's a new one. But I guess it's not wrong. You're not afraid of me?”  
“You were scary, but you’re still my sister, and I love you.”  
“Hey, watch it, Flo. Keep this up and I might accidentally drown you in a lake of tears.” Frieda cracked a small smile at the young girl on her leg.   
Urklyn snorted. “Now you make the joke. Of course.” Women.  
\--------------------------  
Most people wouldn't think of Rod as an outdoorsman—most people would be right. However, he knew Dirk well enough to know where the boy would hide. As he went deeper into the forest, Rod couldn't help but shake his head. He knew something like this was bound to happen with Dirk, but in the manner that it happened was astonishing, to say the least. And sooner. Urklyn was fifteen when he had those urges. Unfortunately, it seemed Dirk was growing up too fast.  
Rod came upon a clearing with a simple pond. It wasn't an extravagant sight like most of the Reiss land was, but it was calm and quiet save for the noises of nearby animals. Sitting on log to Rod's left was Dirk, who was making an effort not to look at him.  
Beating around the bush wasn't Rod's style, so he jumped right into it. “Dirk, I know what happened.”  
The boy didn't answer, still staring at the ground.  
Normally, Rod would have made him look up, but he decided to give him some grace for a change. “I know you enjoy your pranks, son, but you went too far. This wasn't a simple humiliation. You--”  
“I'm messed up,” Dirk interrupted glumly.  
That caught Rod off guard. “What?”  
“It was supposed to be just a prank like Frieda did to me, but I…” His voice got very shaky as he held his head. “I wanted to see what she looked like. My sister! What kind of sick person does that? There's something wrong with me. I-I don't know how to fix it.”  
“There's nothing to fix, Dirk. You're just growing up,” Rod said, sounding surprisingly sympathetic. “It's normal to have those urgings towards a woman. It's how we're created. Every man goes through something like this at some point. Perhaps not as… showy as your stunt, but it happens.”  
“I don't like it,” Dirk replied, wiping his tears away quickly. “I want to make it stop.”  
“You have two options: you can either run from yourself or you can be a man and work through it.” Rod grasped his shoulder. “You're a Reiss, Dirk. I know you have what it takes. Don't prove me wrong.”  
Dirk stiffened at the contact, but he didn't move away. “Frieda hates me, doesn't she?”  
“She's upset, but she doesn't hate you. If she does, your mother and I have a few stories about Frieda that will give her a gentle reminder of what she did when she went through her own urgings.”  
Now, Dirk glanced at his father in surprise. “Really? She gets urgings, too?”  
Rod chuckled. “While not as obvious or embarrassing as men, yes, she does. In fact, I think you're old enough for me to tell you what your sister did once, but if you want to hear it, you're gonna have to come home.”   
Dirk let out a sigh. “Can't hide here forever.”  
“No, you can't.” Rod stood up along with Dirk. “Come on, son.”  
As they began trudging back, Rod thanked the Goddess for buying him some time. The Talk was nigh, so stalling was going to be the name of the game for a while. No matter how many times he explained the concept, it never got easier. At least he never had to do it again.  
Upon arrival, Dirk nearly recoiled at seeing Frieda a Titan and he almost bolted if Rod didn't grab him by the arm.   
“Frieda,” Rod greeted, clearing his throat. “I found him.”  
Frieda stiffened, and gently pushed Florian to the ground. “And he's still in one piece? You must be going easy on him, Father.” Her tone held some latent bitterness as her mother still had not returned with any clothing yet. Frieda supposed that Greta must have gotten distracted handling things with Abel at the moment. Crossing her arms, she looked at the culprit of her present humiliation. “Well?”  
Rod's eyes narrowed. “Three years ago. March 12. A public bathhouse with a lot of men. Remember, Frieda?”   
A horrified look crossed her face. “Yes, I recall, Father. We also agreed never to speak of it again. So why, are you broaching the subject now?” The question hung in the air for a moment, and then it clicked. “Ohhh…” A blush dusted the large Titan cheeks.   
“Before you start casting stones, just remember that curious teenager who I had to drag away before a scandal erupted. Dirk, fix this.” He nudged his son forward and walked away.  
Dirk forced himself to look up at his sister. “I'm so sorry, Frieda. I… it was just a prank. I never meant to--” He got choked up as tears filled his eyes and his voice began cracking terribly. “I don't know how to make it stop, and I can't take back what I did to you.” He broke down, believing his sister hated him.  
Frieda studied him as he made his apology. She couldn't help but flash back to her own incident of being in his shoes. Only it wasn't family she had had to make an apology to. Her eyes softened and after several beats, she spoke.  
“I know. I've been through it too, so I get it. I forgive you, Dorky-Dirk.” She smiled as she brought back a long-dead nickname from when they were little. “Can you promise me something, though?” She asked, hoping to get him to look up at her by this point.   
“No more pranks,” he promised. “Never again.”  
“I wasn't going to go that far. I was just gonna say when you get those urges again, they'd be better off directed towards young women that aren't family.” Frieda winked at him, opening her arms in invitation for a giant hug.  
Dirk looked confused. “Uh, what are you doing?”   
Frieda reached over and picked up her youngest brother, and gently pressed him to her cheek in a tender hug. “You needed a hug,” she replied simply.   
He was surprised by her actions and how warm her face felt, but he just hugged back as best he could.  
“Come on, Urklyn,” Florian urged, pulling his hand towards Frieda.  
“Flo, what are you doing?” Urklyn asked.   
“Group hug.”  
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”  
“Not without Abel,” Dirk said, pulling away briefly.  
Frieda’s eyes lifted to the broken window of her sister’s room. Giving her siblings no warning, she pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the window. She paused for a moment and then leaned her face so she could peek into the room.   
Fortunately, Greta had departed from the doorway, finally satisfied with the missive that Abel had penned. The aforementioned girl was sitting on her bed with a book, a grumpy look on her face.   
“Abel.” Frieda spoke softly.   
“What do you want? Come to gloat?” Abel glared at Frieda, then turned away.   
“Not this time.” Frieda paused to choose her words carefully. “I’m sorry for being so harsh on you. I forgot what it's like to be your age and in your shoes. Will you forgive me?”  
Abel let the book fall from her hands, clattering to the floor. She, then, took the apology letter that she carefully crafted and held it up. She didn't read a single word and merely ripped the paper to shreds. “I want to be me,” Abel explained, looking more vulnerable than ever. “I just want to be me. You used to defend me when our parents got down on me. And now, you just…” She couldn't even finish.  
Frieda had the good sense to look chagrined. “I know. I--I'll put in more effort to be the elder sister you need me to be. Join us for a hug?” She asked hesitantly.  
Abel looked at her and now, she, too, was crying. “I'm so sorry I used Uncle Uri against you.”   
Large, hot tears rolled down Frieda’s cheeks as well. “I'm sorry for being such a monster that you fear. I miss him too and--” she hiccuped.   
“Just shut up and let me join you guys, you sappy excuse for a Titan,” Abel interrupted.  
Frieda giggled, and opened the hand that Dirk was still standing on so Abel could step out the shattered remains of her bedroom window and onto her sister. Not forgetting about Urklyn and Florian who had been listening by her feet, at least to Frieda’s side of the conversation, the giant woman stepped back carefully from the building. Sliding as softly as she could given her size back into a cross-legged position, she picked up Urklyn and Florian and held all her siblings against her tear-stained, warm cheeks. They may not always get along, but it didn't change the fact that they were, and always would be, family.


	7. A Reasonable Sacrifice

The marketplace. Nestled in the center of town, it served as a hub bringing all variety of people together for a common goal. Within the Interior, such places would be brilliantly decorated with bright colors on the umbrellas and awnings, signaling the wealth of those who lived and worked here, enticing people to linger.   
Here, however, the only illumination was sunlight reflecting off the dingy cobblestones, casting an eerie tinge to what would otherwise be a beautiful midmorning. Coarse cotton, and in some cases, even burlap served as coverings for the vendors that catered to the Western Wall. Peeling paint, rickety buildings, and improper waste management all contributed to the overall feeling that the glory days of Krolva were a thing of the distant past. Ordinarily all of this would be overlooked as the residents kept their heads down, focused on their own goals. Unfortunately, this was no longer the case. Not today.  
“Take cover!”  
The Garrison troops jumped aside as a crate full of rotten fruits crashed where they were previously standing.  
“You expect us to be grateful?! Not even pigs would eat that slop!”  
The trio of soldiers covered their heads as food was flung at them from the surrounding rooftops. The deteriorating produce softened the blows, but not by much. Bruises were already starting to form on their arms as they ran through the narrow streets.  
“What the hell do we do, Sergeant?” one of the soldiers asked while on the verge of panicking.  
The sergeant of the squad looked back to see the angry mob of civilians chasing after them, armed with pitchforks, clubs, knives, and all sorts of improvised weapons. “Get to the Wall before these assholes rip us limb from limb.”  
Normally, soldiers would be outfitted with ODM gear, but this squad was recently transferred from the Interior. The gear wasn't really required in that territory. Now, they were paying for it when the riot broke out over the Garrison delivering rotten food to the people. Already, four soldiers from their squad had been killed.  
Unfortunately, as the remaining trio nearly reached the Wall, a soldier's foot landed inside a crack in the road. He tripped and fell, his foot stuck.  
“Will!” The other private turned to help his friend, but the sergeant grabbed onto his arm.  
“Leave him,” he ordered, dragging him away. “He'll slow them down.”  
The private watched in horror as Will's screams for help was drowned out by the angry shouts. The civilians started beating his body with their weapons and impaling him with whatever sharp objects they had. There was no saving him.  
The last two soldiers made a break for the Wall, the mob right on their tails. Then, the ground exploded around them as cannonfire littered the area. The civilians came to a halt, allowing the Garrison soldiers to escape by the skin of their teeth.  
“Now, my fine people, do I have your attention?” a grizzled voice asked.  
The crowd stared at the top of the Wall to see a grey-haired, slightly-bald man, ordained with many medals on his uniform. Flanking either side of him were two cannons that had smoke coming out of them.  
“These weapons do good against Titans,” he said, patting the left cannon. “I'd hate to waste their power on you.”  
“You'd rather kill us than give us clean food!?” one of the civilians shouted.  
“We might as well start eating each other at this rate!” a woman added.  
The high-ranking soldier chuckled. “Now, now, I'm sure we can work this out. We just received a new shipment of bread. Plenty for everyone in this District. Now, you can go home and put your trust in me, or I give the order to fire. Your choice.”  
Grumbling amongst themselves, the mob began to slowly disperse until all that remained were the trampled, broken bodies of the soldiers.  
“That was close, Captain,” one of the cannoneers said, breathing a sigh of relief.  
“Well, 'plenty’ might have been exaggerating,” the captain admitted. “We can still feed this District before they take a leaf out of the Titans’ book.”  
The soldiers visibly shuddered at the thought.  
“Captain Pixis.” The sergeant finally arrived, out of breath. “Davos and I… we're all that's left.”  
Pixis let out an exhausted sigh. “Should've known our 'gift’ from the Interior was too good to be true.” He stared out into the District, the smell of blood filling the air. “At this rate, we'll have a civil war on our hands and this entire country will collapse.” He chuckled. “Well, boys, it was nice knowing you.”  
The soldiers were stunned to silence as the captain walked off.   
\-----------------  
Meditation was always essential when trying to obtain peace of mind. In these stressful times, having a cool head was vital for such situations. This is why Frieda devoted time daily to centering herself to achieve this serenity. It was really hard when her mind was plaguing her with the curse that would never leave her family be.  
Four years and you're still resisting.  
Frieda shivered visibly. The voice was her own yet not. And I will keep resisting your twisted ways.  
But you didn't, remember? You knew what had to be done.  
That was different. I did what I had to, to protect my family. She protested.   
So, these so-called twisted ways enabled you to make the only call you could.   
Frieda chose not to respond, taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself once more. Always talking, never stopping.  
A knock at the door interrupted her attempt at meditation. “Hey, uh, Frieda? You there?” Of course it had to be her perverted brother.  
“What the hell do you want? I’m meditating, so leave me alone!” The harsh snap came immediately.  
“Oh? And how's that working--?” Dirk stopped himself with a clear of his throat. “I brought you something that might help.”  
Frieda sighed, realizing how rude she had sounded. “C’mon on in, Dirk.”  
Dirk opened the door into Frieda's room. She was sitting cross-legged at the foot of her queen-sized bed, in front of a small statue of the Goddess Ymir.   
“I apologize for snapping. I’ve been a touch on edge, and my attempts to meditate and regain my balance and poise have proven inefficient. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”  
He shrugged. “Hey, it happens.” He held a teapot and a teacup. “Green leaf tea. Hope that's still your favorite.”  
Frieda’s eyes softened. “You have a good memory. Thank you.”  
You keep letting him off easy.  
He’s my baby brother. I can’t stay mad at him forever. He’s still family.   
He committed incestuous actions towards you.   
He was being a curious teenager, nothing more, nothing less. I did something similar, remember?  
For once, her own thoughts couldn't counter that.  
Dirk poured her a cup and sat down next to her. “Still hot.” He handed the cup to her.  
Frieda lifted an eyebrow at him. “You come to visit unannounced, bringing my favorite type of tea, and you’re now seated in my bedroom beside me. Were you not my brother…” she trailed off with a teasing tone.  
To her surprise, he put the tea down and stood up. “Alright, I get it! Enjoy your damn tea.”  
Frieda grabbed his wrist to stop him from escaping. “I was only messing with you, Dirk. I’m sorry. You don’t have to leave yet.”  
Dirk looked back down at her and let out a sigh. “I thought you still hated me.”   
So, he tries to bribe you into forgiving him. Idiot.  
“I already forgave you. What reason would I have to hate you?” She asked, quickly adding, “And no, you seeing me naked doesn’t count as a reason. I mean, it’s only fitting that you should want to properly worship your Queen.”  
Dirk looked aghast at that and backed up a bit. “Uh, Frieda, are you feeling alright?”  
She cocked her head sideways and gave a mirthless chuckle. “Of course. I feel fine. Why would you ask me that?”  
“N-No reason. I should, um, go brush a horse or two.” Dirk turned and accidentally knocked over the statue with his foot. “Ow! Son of a--!”  
Frieda’s eyes flashed in anger, quickly standing and righting the statue. “You idiot! Watch where you’re going, you clumsy dumbass! Do you have any idea how sacred the images of our great Goddess are? You’re lucky that it hadn’t broken, or I would’ve...” The words had scarcely escaped her lips when she realized what she was saying. Oh shit. “I’m sorry, Dirk. I didn’t mean any of that.”  
Dirk’s eyes were wide with fear as he was pinned to the wall. Wait, what? Looking down, she noticed that she had grabbed him by the collar.  
Frieda’s gaze lifted and met her brother’s dark brown eyes. “I-It would probably be wise for you to leave now, Dirk. I’m sorry.”  
Dirk didn’t need to be told twice as he fled from the room.  
Closing the door behind him, she sat back heavily in front of the statue, finally taking a long sip of the now lukewarm beverage he had brought to her.  
Oh, my gods. How could I have wanted him to… what was I thinking?  
None of this would have happened if you would simply accept who you are, Frieda.  
I have accepted who I am. I refuse to accept this nonsense you're pushing so hard!  
I am you and you are me. If I am pushing this, then so are you.  
Frieda shivered once again. Why can't you just let me rule without your influence?  
It's the truth you are running from, not an influence.  
The truth? I'm having a hard time discerning truth from a fairytale. And you're giving me a headache.   
A knock on the door interrupted Frieda’s thoughts and attempted mediation.   
“The meeting will commence in a few minutes. Make sure you're dressed appropriately.” Rod’s voice carried through the door.   
“Yes, Father.” Frieda replied, smoothly rising to her feet. The time for serenity, or attempts thereof, was over. Now it was back to the reality of her position. Donning a navy blue dress that came to her ankles yet accentuated her figure, she tied up her hair into a snug updo, sliding sandals onto her feet. Checking the mirror briefly, she looked every bit of the ruler she was, minus the ornate crown reserved for the seated monarch. In time, that shall be mine as well, she vowed to herself. They can't maintain that puppet forever. But in the meantime, the council awaits.   
Rod met her in the hallway outside the conference room. Giving her a terse once over, he nodded silently, and then opened the door for her to enter before him.   
Seated at the table already were the gentlemen that Rod had aptly described to her previously as the “Interior’s ruling forces”. Five gentlemen sat there, the addition of Rod and Frieda bringing the counsel total to seven in attendance, with Rod Reiss being the overseer. All rose as Frieda entered, remaining standing until she strode across the room and took her seat to the right of the head of the table. Folding her hands and setting them neatly in her lap, she looked at her father who took his cue to bring the meeting to order.   
“I don't need to tell you why we've gathered this particular day,” he began.  
“The riot,” the thinnest noble there, Henri Nach, said. “Seven soldiers and four civilians were killed today when they saw the food.”  
Aurille Cletus, the thorn that would never go away, snorted. “This is what happens when we try to be generous.”  
“In any case,” Rod interrupted, “the events of the past six months have been building up to this. The famine has gotten worse than ever, and every day the number of so-called refugees pouring into the Interior Walls increases.” He paused, his eyes meeting the gaze of each of the men in turn. “A clamor has arisen from the people, and it's reached our ears. A solution must be reached, and quickly, lest all of us in turn bear the struggles of the impoverished and more people are needlessly slaughtered in the streets.”  
“What are our options?” the oldest noble present, Mikkel Haas, asked. “Are there any additional food resources we can tap into?”  
“The food we sent were the only spare resources we had,” Henri pointed out. “A few organizations have formed in our Walls to help feed them, but they are too few to contend with the multitude. Not to mention the little resources they have. I worry that the downtrodden will set their fury towards them.”  
“Then recall them.” Carl Denzel, a portly man with a balding head, broke his silence. “If our people are going to behave like savages crawling on the ground, then we shouldn’t put these organizations in harm’s way.”  
Emeric Braumhauer, a middle-aged noble with a fine beard, shook his head. “Gentlemen, I do not see an easy solution to this problem. The longer we deliberate over this matter, the more likely we risk a civil war.”  
“Perhaps this problem needs a woman’s touch,” Carl suggested, looking at the young Queen.   
Frieda’s eyes were glazed over as if she was in a trance. Her expressions were unreadable but every now and then, she would dig her fingernails into her hand.  
“Your Highness?” Carl asked, concerned.  
The use of her title snapped Frieda out of her daze. “I apologize. I haven’t been sleeping well.” She cleared her throat nervously. “Continue.”  
“We were looking for your input on the crisis at hand,” Henri explained.   
“And what has been proposed as practical solutions thus far? All I've heard are vague notions. Nothing concrete.” She leaned back and crossed her ankles, awaiting their response.   
“We don't quite have something practical,” Emeric admitted. “If we did, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”  
Rod had not said a single word, but like the other nobles, he expected a response.  
“Well then, perhaps it would be more beneficial to present any solutions, practical or otherwise, rather than running your mouth about your lack of suggestions and wasting all of our time.” Frieda replied icily.   
The group was taken aback by her tone and the harsh words that left her.  
“Frieda,” Rod said, his voice carrying a hint of warning.  
“Father, why did you bring me here if there were no solutions to be had?” Frieda asked, not backing down.  
“This is a plight upon your people,” Rod answered sternly. “A plight you must solve.”  
A test. This was another test. Knowing him, the nobles had the answer, but were instructed not to give them to her. Frieda scowled at her father, but she didn't combat him further. “There are many areas within Wall Rose and Sina where we can create new fields. Let's start there.”  
“The fruitful soils are few and far between,” Mikkel pointed out gravely. “And even if that wasn't the case, this solution would take too long and more people will starve along the way.”  
Frieda glared at the man, but she couldn't refute him. “Perhaps the Scout Regiment can be tasked with retrieving food from the Wall Maria territory in their expeditions.”  
Aurille had the audacity to roll his eyes at her. “The Scouts wouldn't last five minutes. They're Titan fodder and a waste of taxpayer money, for starters. For another, they'll probably stuff their faces and give the people the scraps.”  
Hypocrisy in the highest form.  
Frieda stiffened. Leave me alone.  
Must you go through this every single time?  
Why can't you just go and let me live my own life?   
You forfeited that life you desperately seek when you took the serum. And now, you have spent the last three years regretting that decision and wallowing in self-pity.  
“Frieda, what's wrong?” Rod asked, concerned.  
She did not listen to him, too wrapped up in her own thoughts.  
You know what has to be done for the sake of your people.  
Frieda shook it off, saying, “I'm fine. I'm just formulating another possibility.”  
You're the Queen of the Eldians. Start acting like it. Make the hard choice only the Great King could make.  
\-------------------  
A memory clouded her vision, consuming all previous thoughts of a response. No longer was she Frieda Reiss seated at the council with her father. She looked out through the eyes of Karl Fritz, the 145th King.   
He stood at the edge of the throne room balcony, gazing across the Walls. A pair of advisors were behind him, awaiting his response. “Sire, this war is only going to get worse. We can't delay your decision any longer.” The nervous voice came from the man on the left, who had been his most trusted ally for many years, Josef Hendricks. The young man apprenticing beside him, William Reiss looked scared. Karl’s eyes closed for a long moment then held a coldness as he turned to face the men.   
“Bring me the people. I know how to end this war.”   
William shivered, fighting to keep from wetting his pants. Something was wrong. He could sense nothing but malice in the tone of his king.   
“Which people do you refer to, Highness?” Josef asked, hoping for clarity.   
“All of them. Bring them all before me. Immediately.” Karl said sternly.   
Both men bowed low before their king and quickly departed to carry out their ruler’s orders.   
Within the hour, the Eldians were gathered in the Interior, talking among themselves. It had been a long time since their King addressed his people, so they pondered the possibilities. Perhaps the King finally had an heir to the throne after all this time. Goddess knew they needed good news.  
A bright flash of light caught their attention and the thirteen-meter, grotesque form of Karl Fritz stepped into view, causing the voices to cease. His arms were long and bony as if they could snapped off like twigs. His ribcage was sunken and exposed, though his stomach was rotund. Unlike the rest of the world, the Eldians eagerly awaited the Titan to explain himself. He fell to his knees, shaking the ground, though no one ran.   
“People of Eldia,” Karl began, looking at each and every one of them. His jaw was exposed, giving his voice a very raspy sound. “The war… has ended.”  
In the blink of an eye, the people exploded into cheers that could be heard across the country. The king stared at his people, a forlorn expression on his face. They thought this a victory for them, but they couldn't be further from the truth. Peace could only be obtained if the people took back the world the Eldians stole time and time again. The poison of his people would come to an end at last.  
Karl threw his head back, his long, matted locks whipping around his face and he let out a massive, feral roar. The cheers were immediately silenced, and the eyes of the Eldians were glazed over like they were dead. Now, they would only remember what he wanted them to. Nothing else mattered except for his Will, and his Will was peace.  
\--------------------  
There is only one choice. A cold mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. Ease their suffering.  
But… Frieda tried to think of a valid argument but was unable to come up with anything to refute the claim.  
“Frieda!” Rod's voice once again cut into her, silencing herself again. “Are you ill? Do you need a doctor?”   
“My apologies. I am not ill. I believe I now have a solution to the present circumstances.” She replied resolutely.   
“We are listening,” Henri assured, all eyes on the Queen.  
“Send people from the Wall Rose and Maria districts back to reclaim and work the land within Wall Maria. They may yet have a chance to provide additional resources for the good of all.”  
The group was stunned to silence, knowing exactly what she really wanted. While they had similar thoughts, they didn't know how she would respond to such a plan.  
“B-But it's impossible” Mikkel protested. “You'd be sending them to their deaths. The Titans will devour them before they can make any sort of headway.”  
“That's the whole point,” Aurille told him, condescension oozing from the words.   
“I don't intend to send a minuscule team to perform this task. I'm not sending the Scouts to scour the area. We will be sending hundreds of thousands. I should think that something might be accomplished out of that great a number.” Frieda’s cold eyes settled on Mikkel.  
The noble lowered his gaze, unable to face her.  
“I concur with Queen Frieda's solution,” Emeric said. “Are there any objections?”   
No one spoke up, not even Mikkel. He seemed content to keep his head down. Aurille looked very pleased with idea. Henri, Carl, and Emeric remained neutral in their expressions. Rod, however, gave her a subtle, satisfied nod.  
“Then it’s settled,” Carl said. “We'll determine how many people will be sent. No matter what happens, this is for the good of the people.”  
Look at them. They don't even mourn for the lives that will be lost. Even the one noble is too weak to fight for what he believes in. These are what your people are: a poison to the world. For the good of the people, a reasonable sacrifice must be made.  
“For the good of the people,” Frieda repeated.


	8. Diverging Roads

“Let's see: how about this one?” Kenny brought his knife down, severing the middle finger on the left hand. All that was left was the thumb and ring finger.  
“Fuck you!” the man screamed, thrashing against the chains restraining him to the chair. No one could hear him in this dimly-lit cell, and even if they did, they wouldn't save him. First rule of the Underground: mind your own business.  
Kenny rolled his eyes. “I hoped for something more original, like 'I'll rip your dick off.’”  
Rod shook his head, annoyed. “He'll bleed out before he says anything.”  
“Then let's do it the professional way,” Kenny suggested, tracing the knife against his victim's face, making slight incisions every now and then. “Let's get him to a doctor and get him patched up. Then, we'll keep going. How's that sound?”  
“Do whatever you want,” the man snarled, blood streaming down his face. “I won't say a damn thing to you psychopathic bastards!”  
“Then how about me?” Greta stepped forward from the shadows, motioning Kenny to move. She knelt to the man's level and held out a golden-chained necklace with a heart-shaped sapphire pendant. “Recognize this, Viktor?”  
His eyes widened in horror. “No. You wouldn't.”  
“Seven years old. Your daughter has a long life ahead of her if you talk. I would hate for Kenny to cut her life short.” She dangled the necklace in front of his face, moving it back and forth. “Life's full of strife and tragedy. It all depends on whether tragedy befalls your precious child.”  
Viktor clenched his teeth, rage bubbling up within him. There was no question that he wanted to kill them all, but he was helpless. There was only one choice now. “Lord Garber, he… he was sending letters to someone.”  
“Who?” Rod asked, staring down at him coldly. “Give me a name if you want her to live.”  
“I don't know his real name,” Viktor replied.  
“Kenny, kill his daughter and bring him her head,” Greta ordered, standing to full height.  
“I swear I'm telling the truth!” Viktor protested. “He only referred to him as the Restorer. That's all I know! Leave my daughter alone!”  
Greta paused and glanced at her husband. “Well?”  
“We're done here,” Rod said, backing away. “Kenny.”  
“Wait, what about my--?” A slice of the throat shut Viktor up.  
“Joke's on you,” Kenny pointed out with a grin. “She's already dead.”  
The light in Viktor's eyes faded away and he slumped forward, lifeless.  
The glorified bodyguard let out whistle of appreciation. “Damn, Greta. You've got ice in your veins.”  
Greta glared back at him. “You expected otherwise? There's a threat to my family. I would not be worthy of the Reiss name if I was unwilling to do whatever it takes to protect them. Especially our Queen.” Holding up the necklace and looking at it for a few moments, she turned to Rod. “I trust you can dispose of this properly?”   
“Why not give Little Flo a nice birthday present?” Kenny suggested. “I think it would good on her.”  
“Do NOT refer to my daughter with such a derogatory nickname. You will speak of her as Florian, nothing else.” Greta seethed. “What would possess you to suggest such a vile thing?”  
“Because it's a nice necklace?” Kenny responded. “Be a pity to waste it on the dead.”  
Rod finally intervened, taking the necklace out of his wife's hands as he glowered at the man. “If you want to pawn this off, fine, but if this shows up near my family, I will make you eat your bullets. Is that clear?”  
Kenny simply stared down at him and smirked. “You people can never take a joke.” He snatched the necklace, pocketing it. “Should fetch me a substantial amount.”  
Greta looked at Rod. “The Restorer. Ring any bells?”  
“A codename that could be anyone, but it's specific enough to know what kind of person we're looking for.” Rod straightened his jacket, his nose wrinkling with disgust from the smell of the corpse. “We're done here.”   
Kenny opened the door and led the way out. Like all other occupants of this prison, the bodies would decay and be forgotten. “I haven't killed anybody here in seven years. Brings back memories.”  
Greta ignored him. “How do we find this Restorer?”  
“Pastor Nick might be able to help us,” Rod answered.  
“Oh, God, you're not seriously recruiting the Wall Worshippers, are you?” Kenny complained. “Damn lunatics.”  
“They have eyes and ears all over the country,” Rod reminded him. “They can be discreet when we can't.”  
Kenny groaned, shaking his head. “I swear if I hear them talk about how beautiful and glorious these Walls are, I'm gonna stand on top of the Wall and piss on his damn head!”  
“Can’t you go one day without being crass?” Greta asked, her irritation rising with every second.   
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't get paid enough for that.”  
“One day, Kenny, you will burn in Hell,” Rod muttered.  
“And I'll see you both there,” Kenny responded with a dark chuckle. “Alma, too. I can't wait.”  
Greta bristled. “If you ever utter that name in my presence again, I will kill you myself. Do I make myself clear, Ackerman?”  
“You love to threaten me, but I know you won't do it,” Kenny said matter-of-factly. “Watch this: Alma.”  
Greta clenched her fists but didn't move otherwise, mumbled curses unbecoming to a lady of her stature falling from her lips.   
If I didn't need you, Kenny… Rod silently prayed for that day to come quickly.   
\-----------------  
(Karanes District)

Grey never struck Greta as a most attractive color. Perhaps in the case of a church, it represented humility and piety. Regardless of the reasoning, there it stood. The two-story grey chapel adorned with a fading white steeple and large wooden doors was before them. She cringed internally, knowing that she would likely be biting her tongue through most of the heretical ramblings of the Pastor.   
Following Rod through the doors, Greta allowed her eyes to sweep over the interior. The rows of pews were just like the chapel they frequented as a family. This particular church had more elaborate candelabras and more tapestries in extravagant colors, but similarities aside, this one had one major difference. Pastor Nick.   
Per usual, he bore a black robe that almost reached the floor. One could imagine the man tripping over himself if he had to run. On his collar were three emblems representing the Daughters of Ymir: Maria, Rose, and Sina. He was standing at the pulpit looking over notes for his sermons when he saw the unexpected walking down the aisle towards.  
“Lord and Lady Reiss,” Nick greeted with a smile. “It's been a while since you've come here.”  
“Good to see you, Pastor,” Rod said, shaking his hand. “I see you've made a few changes since I've been here last.” He indicated a stained glass window of Ymir Fritz.  
“Well, as the flock increases, the church must adapt with the times,” Nick replied.  
“Pity it didn't happen a few years sooner. Otherwise, we would still be attending,” Greta pointed out.  
“Probably for the best since your daughter does better work than me.” He led them into his small office, all of them taking seats. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what do you need?”  
“Nick, it seems that Garber was just the beginning,” Rod explained. “A man tried to murder my daughter, knowing who she is.”  
The pastor's eyes widened in shock. “Good God, is she okay? Your sons and daughters?”  
“They are fine,” he assured, “but it's clear someone else knows the truth, or more than one.”  
“If these interlopers play their hand, they could destroy everything your family has worked so hard to create,” Nick said gravely. “Do you have any leads?”  
“A former friend of the Garbers made reference to someone known as the Restorer,” Greta answered.  
“Hmm.” Nick put his hands together in thought. “Perhaps this Restorer wants Eldia to return to its 'glory days.’’ I have not heard that name, but I will spread the word throughout the congregation. We'll find this person, whatever it takes.”  
Rod nodded in appreciation. “Thank you--”  
A loud crash coming from outside made the three jump. Gathering his bearings, Nick looked outside the window and scowled. “Not her again.”  
“Her?” Rod asked curiously.  
“A homeless runt stealing food again,” the pastor explained, shaking his head. “She's been lingering around the church like a vulture.”  
“Dear, perhaps we should tend to this situation,” Greta suggested.  
Rod nodded, unspoken words passing between them. “Let's go.”  
“Thank you for your time, Pastor,” was all Greta said before the two exited the building.  
Outside, two men were holding up a thrashing girl by her arms. Her ragged and filthy attire made it clear she lived on the streets. Stringy dark hair hung to her shoulders, framing her face where light brown eyes flashed in rage. “Let me go, you scum! Can't a girl get something to eat without your filthy hands all over me?”  
“Shut up, brat!” One of the men shoved her into the ground, placing his boot on her back. “You stole a valuable necklace, too. Planning on eating that?”  
“Food costs money, assholes. How else am I supposed to eat?” She spat out the dirt that filled her mouth thanks to practically kissing the ground.  
“How about you feed yourself to the Titans and leave the food to the hard workers?” the second man suggested cruelly.  
“That's enough,” Greta intervened, stepping forward. “Get off the poor girl immediately.”  
The two men recognized her outfit as that of the noble class. Last thing they wanted was to get in trouble with the Military Police, so they backed off.  
“How much did she take?” Rod asked, staring them down.  
“A silver necklace, some bread, and a couple apples,” the first man answered.  
“Gentlemen, step over here and we can talk about compensation for your lost food,” Rod said, gesturing to an empty table.  
Their eyes brightened up at “compensation,” so they followed Rod, leaving the girl in front of Greta, who offered a hand.  
The girl looked up at the finely dressed woman assisting her, and took the offered hand up to her feet. “Why are you helping me? I'm nothing but garbage.”   
“Garbage is something useless to throw away. You are a little girl without a home.” She gave her a kind smile. “What's your name?”  
“Ymir,” came the mumbled response.   
Greta raised an eyebrow at that name.  
“Supposedly, I was named after a goddess. Hasn't brought me any good fortune though.”  
“Life isn't fair, and you have to make the most of it. I may not be suffering like you are, but I can at least ease some of it for a while.” She unclipped her golden bracelet and held it to her. “How about a trade?”  
Ymir looked incredulously at the noblewoman. “A trade? What could I possibly have that you'd want?” She asked bluntly.   
“That necklace you took. It belongs to someone who might have lost somebody to the Titans. It may be the only thing they have left of them. If you don't care for that sort of thing, my bracelet will fetch a much higher price than the necklace.” Greta explained patiently.   
Ymir looked away. “I hadn't thought of it like that,” she admitted albeit with hesitation. “Alright. Deal. Here you go.” Her hand opened with the pendant still imprinted on her palm.  
Greta removed the necklace and replaced it with the bracelet, curling her tiny fingers around it. “Let's take a walk. I don't want some ruffian stealing that bracelet from you.”  
“Thank you, um,” Ymir fumbled. “I didn't catch your name, ma'am.”  
“You can call me Greta, but please don't call me ma'am. I'm trying to stay as young as I can,” she said with a chuckle. Greta glanced at Rod, who was still deep in conversation with the two men. “They will be at it awhile longer. Let's get that bracelet taken care of and some food in your stomach.” She said kindly, offering a hand once more to Ymir.   
The girl nodded dumbly, at a loss for words from the compassion she was receiving. Never before had anyone shown her a kindness like this.   
“So, Ymir, do you have any family?” Greta asked, leading her down the street.  
“No. Just me.” Ymir’s forlorn expression spoke volumes.  
“I'm sorry,” she replied sincerely.   
“Why do you care? Why are you helping me? There's nothing you could possibly gain from it.” Ymir asked, her confusion and frustration at being unable to read Greta finally getting the best of her.  
“Well, I do get something out of it,” Greta admitted. “You get fed, and you get some money to last you a bit longer.” She sighed. “I've seen people, rich and poor, turn a blind eye to the suffering in these Walls for whatever reasons. Call me naïve, but I believe acts of random kindness does create wonders in this place.”  
Ymir looked warily up at her, skeptical. “That's just crazy-talk.”  
“Is it? Then what do you call all this?” she asked, glancing down at her. “A dream that you will wake up from?”  
“Something like that. It's too good to be true.” The girl scoffed.   
“And yet here we are.” She let out another sigh. “Someone repaid your kindness with evil, didn't they?”  
“Only every single time.” Ymir scowled. “I gave up on people actually giving a sh-- crap about me.” She thought better of the coarse language that nearly slipped off her tongue.  
“People can be cruel,” Greta said. “They can be selfish, vicious, deceitful, and so much more. But they also can be compassionate, ethical, merciful, and kind. You shouldn't give up trying to find such people and being one yourself.”   
Ymir stared at her for the longest time. “You're seriously the real deal, aren't you? You've given me a lot to think about, Greta,” Ymir said slowly. “Thank you, for everything.”  
“You're welcome,” she replied. “You remind me quite a bit of my own children.”   
Ymir seemed surprised. “How many children do you have?”  
“Five, actually.”  
Ymir’s mouth fell open. “Five? Wow! You're lucky to have such a big family.”  
“Sometimes, you could say that, but other times…” Her melodious laughter filled the air. “Oh, the stories I could tell.”  
\-------------------  
(Yarckel District)

For the seventh time today, Urklyn checked to make sure he wasn't followed. Any number of people could be on his father's payroll and he wouldn't even know it.   
He’d been given a tip from a servant that there was someone who might be able to assist him. He had been instructed that in order to interact with this mysterious contact that he would need to free his schedule. A meeting could be called at any time, with very little warning. Curious, Urklyn had agreed to the terms. Fortunately, he didn't have long to wait. The summons from the same servant came two days later in the form of a note. Be seated on the bench to the west of the canal under the oak tree at midday. Wear a hat, cross your leg over your knee, and make sure you are not followed. He shortly burned the note after memorizing it.  
Forcing himself to walk slowly as any passerby might, he reached the bench just before midday. Glancing around, he saw nothing unusual or anyone around for that matter. He fidgeted with his hat nervously and crossed his legs first one way, then the other, finally settling into the left corner of the bench with his right leg crossed over his left.   
A few minutes later, a black-haired woman sat on the same bench, pulling out a newspaper. “Urklyn, was it?”  
“That's right,” he answered cautiously, his eyes looking out at the canal. “Who are you?”  
There was a familiar click, causing him to glance right at a flintlock being aimed at his chest, the woman's green eyes staring at him. “My name is Kyler Hauer. Let's talk.”


	9. The Ripper Strikes Again

Urklyn slowly started to raise his hands in defense. “Take it easy. I just want to--”  
“Hands down, dumbass,” Kyler growled, shoving his arms down. “You think I want everyone to know I'm holding up a noble child?”  
“Fair point,” he conceded. It was hard to relax when something lethal was pointed his direction. Any word he said could mean the difference between life and death.   
“Gotta give you points for tracking me down,” Kyler said. “I worked hard to keep my head down and away from your family. Still, I can't be too sure that this isn't a trap.”  
“If it was, you'd be dead,” Urklyn replied matter-of-factly. “You are holding me at gunpoint after all.”  
“Maybe.” Her green eyes stared deep into his own. “Lord Haas may trust you, but I don't.”  
“Same goes for you, Hauer,” he shot back coolly. “For all I know, you could be on my father's payroll, and I wouldn't know a damn thing about it.”  
“The difference between our situations is that it's too late for you. If I wanted to save my skin, I could give you up in the blink of an eye, and you wouldn't be able to do a damn thing.” Her fingers were getting quite friendly with the trigger. “Same goes if you try to double-cross me. I might go down, but I'll take you with me. Do we have an understanding, Urklyn?”   
The teenage boy gulped audibly before nodding. “You have my word.”  
“I need more than that,” Kyler said without missing a beat. “I'm betting your father has many unsavory contacts at his disposal. Give me one that's going to put a dent in his plans.”  
Urklyn gave the woman a look of disbelief. “You can't be serious. He could link it back to me before I even blink. How am I supposed to pull this off?”  
“That's your problem to deal with,” Kyler answered, her tone lacking even a shred of sympathy. “If you want my help, kid, prove that you're willing to risk everything for this. If you can't do that, then you're a coward who talks out of his ass.” She uncocked the pistol and holstered it. “You have a week. If I don't hear anything from you or you ask for an extension, I'm cutting my losses.”  
Urklyn just stared at her with wide eyes. She was asking for the moon on a silver platter. What was she thinking? “How… how do I get in contact with you?” he asked once he found his voice.  
“Talk to Lord Haas. He'll set up another meeting.” Without waiting for a farewell, Kyler stood up and briskly walked away, leaving the newspaper behind.  
Curiosity got the better of him and he opened the newspaper to the page she was reading. His eyes practically popped out of his skull when he read one of the big headlines: Police Pursue Leads on Serial Killer involved in Garber Massacre. He perused the article, seeing connected murders done similarly, and he knew damn well they were onto something. It wasn't a coincidence she left the paper open to this point. Kyler wanted Kenny Ackerman, whether she knew his name or not. The big question would be: how would he even pull this off? This was going to be far harder than he originally believed it would be.  
\---------------  
Damn it! Abel swore inwardly as she was tossed to the ground for the third time today.  
“Ooh, that looked like it hurt,” her “wonderful” Uncle Kenny taunted with a tsk. “Better not have broken something important.”   
Pushing herself quickly to her feet, she ducked under his arms to strike at his kidney. “If I had, you'd be sporting a black eye and a broken nose yourself,” she retorted angrily.   
“Keep telling yourself that, kid.” Kenny ducked down and threw her over his back. “And down you go.”  
Abel grit her teeth as she somersaulted and landed heavily on her shoulder. “Go to hell, Uncle Kenny,” she cursed at him, stumbling back to her feet slower than before.   
He raised his eyebrow at her. “Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? When I first started with you, you were spitting fire out your tongue like a snake with rabies.” He groaned as he leaned against a tree, putting his hat on. “Okay, what's bothering you?” He may have given crappy advice in the past, but he was a good listener.  
Abel scowled and looked away, gathering her thoughts. “Mother’s been riding my ass about my language again, and comparing me to Frieda. If she wanted a second Frieda, why'd she have me?” she grumbled bitterly.   
“Pregnancy made her horny. Who gives a shit why you're here?” Kenny asked in a deadpan tone. “You and I both know your mother's an oversensitive bitch you have to live with. She ain't going anywhere, so unless you want to kill her, you're stuck with her.” He let out a dark chuckle. “Course I'm paid to protect them, so you'd be dead before you could reach her.”  
Abel gave him a sour look. “You're not helping any.”  
“Let me ask you something, kid: why do you care so much about this crap?”  
“I only care because they keep comparing me to her. My name isn't Frieda, I sure as hell ain't the queen, and I don't intend to be!” She cried, frustration laced in her voice.  
“Here's the thing about your parents, Abel,” Kenny said, staring down at her. “Frieda is their favorite child. You? Urklyn? Dirk? Flo? Second fiddle if you're lucky. You know what it takes to get in their good graces? Becoming a fucking Titan and eating whoever had it last. You really wanna strive for that?”  
Abel glared back. “Hell, fucking, no. I don't want anything to do with that shit. I just want to be able to live without their boots up my ass about being perfect forever,” she huffed, looking discouraged. “That won't happen for a long time, though. I guess it's lucky that I'm allowed to even do the training I am with you.”  
“Aw, you're making me blush.” Kenny ruffled her hair.   
She batted his hand away. “How many times do I have to tell you not to mess with my hair? Mother gets pissed enough about me coming back with grass stains on my clothes. I don't need to give her more reason to comment on my shitty appearance.” She gave a small smile, in actuality liking the attention.   
“Oh, don't give me that. Your precious mother makes my ears bleed every time I teach you kids how to fight. Speaking of which…” He whipped out his knife. “High time you started learning how to use one of these.”  
Abel’s eyes lit up in excitement. “You mean it? Oh, I can't wait!”   
“Well, far be it from me to keep a lady waiting.” Kenny gave her a mock bow before tossing a wooden knife at her. “Catch.”  
Abel’s countenance fell as she fumbled the knife that was tossed to her. “It's wooden. Why is it wooden?” She asked, a look of disgust rapidly crossing her face.   
“Because we're not allowed to kill each other,” he answered. “You want a real knife? You'll have to figure that one out.”  
“Way to get a girl’s hopes up. That was cruel, Uncle Kenny,” she scowled up at him. “How the hell am I supposed to find a real knife when I'm never allowed anywhere near them?”  
“You've got a head. Use it. Now, show me what you've got,” Kenny commanded, taking a fighter's stance.  
Abel gritted her teeth and gripped the wooden weapon, charging him head-on without taking the time to plan out her strategy.  
\--------------  
“How was I supposed to know she'd get a black eye?” Kenny asked, glaring at Greta from his chair.   
This being his study, Rod sat in front of his desk while Kenny and an irate Greta were across from him in the armchairs typically reserved for business associates. A large painting hung behind Rod, immediately catching one’s eye as the room was entered. It was another portrait of Ymir Fritz, but while the one in the dining room reflected piety and respect, this one had most guests looking away in discomfort. After all, not many individuals would commission a likeness to be created of Ymir Fritz, the Goddess, in such a provocative position, with several men surrounding her feet in a position of worship to her nude form.  
Four different bookcases surrounded the trio, each containing their unique selections. One contained politics and economics on the country they resided in. Another held histories, not just pertaining to Eldians, but that of Marleyans and other countries as well. The third carried fictional classics of stories that long predated 100 years. The final one was comprised of many religious tomes, though this bookcase carried more dust than the rest.  
“What part of ‘avoid striking the face and belt regions’ was unclear to you? We are society people, not thugs fighting in a tavern!” Greta growled back.   
“You think those thugs are gonna care that she's high society?” Kenny pointed out. “Come on.”  
The matriarch found herself unable to refute that statement. “I will admit to not being keen on allowing my daughters to learn hand-to-hand combat, but in the times we now find ourselves in, there’s no real choice but to allow them the opportunity to properly defend themselves. This shall be the one and only time I show you mercy in regards to your so-called teaching methods.”  
“How noble of you,” Kenny drawled.   
“How is Abel, dear?” Rod asked, concerned.  
“She will be fine. She has a gash under her left eye, and it will no doubt be swollen and painful for several days, but there’s no permanent damage. I had one of the maids take an ice pack up to her room after I checked it,” Greta replied, shooting another dark look at Kenny.  
The psychopath rolled his eyes at that. “Good to know you give a damn for someone other than Frieda for a change.”  
The scathing reply was immediate, “Mind your own damn business, Ackerman. I happen to love all of my children, and it would do you well to remember to shut up.”   
“Greta, calm down,” Rod urged. “Remember, it's almost over.”  
That got Kenny's attention. “You finally firing me?”  
Rod sighed in exasperation. “No. The Military Police has been searching high and low for the serial killer responsible for the deaths of the Garbers and many others.” He tossed Kenny the newspaper containing the article in question. “If they keep digging, they might connect those killings to us.”  
The bodyguard examined the paper, nodding. “Now, this is interesting. They're finally staging a play about the Taming of the Shrew. About time.”  
Greta glowered at him, and opened her mouth to speak, but Rod cut in before a word could escape her lips.  
“Kenny, for God's sake, take this seriously,” he demanded, losing his patience.  
“You think I don't know where this is going, old man?” Kenny asked, tossing the newspaper aside. “You're planning to sell me out to the military. Score some points with this damn country, right? Seems like your style.”  
“No one will think twice about a sadistic psychopath going on a killing spree,” Greta explained, enunciating just how she felt about the man. “You will have to keep them of our trail, Kenny.”  
The man let out a dark chuckle. “Leading the cops on a wild goose chase sounds like fun. I can have those dogs chasing their tails for days. Might throw them a bone and let them get close enough to think that they have me, then leave them reeling in nothing but a big ol’ empty net.”  
“Fantasize in your own time,” Rod said with narrowed eyes. “I want you to go over to Orvud District. You will find a merchant named Anton. Dispose of him.”  
“As you command, Your Majesty,” Kenny responded mockingly. “Can I get a drink first?”  
Greta raised an eyebrow at him. “Time is of the essence. I think you of all people should understand that much.” She didn’t bother to hide her disdain.  
He shrugged, putting on his hat. “Well, this is one hell of a vacation. I'll see you around.” With a tip of his hat, he walked out of the office, anticipating what fun he was going to have soon. If he focused just a little bit to his left, he would’ve noticed a certain boy up against the wall, having listened to the whole exchange.  
\--------------  
(Orvud District)

Wednesdays were the best days of the week for Anton Schlect. He whistled softly to himself as he prepared to open up his shop. He always had more customers coming in during the middle of the week, making it the most profitable day of the week. Adjusting a bolt of gingham that had shifted during the night on his way to the front door, he turned over the open sign and unlocked the door promptly at 9am. Straightening the display of dyed linens, he strode back behind the counter, ready for another busy, pleasant day of selling high quality fabric and textiles to the nobility of Wall Sina.  
The bell rang as the door opened, signaling the arrival of the first customer of the day.  
Anton glanced up from his customer log and greeted the stranger who stepped in his door with a warm smile. “Good morning, my good man! May I assist you in finding anything specific?”  
“Well, you see, pal, I’ve been asked by my employer to find something special for him. He’s one of the lazy ones,” the stranger responded, picking up a random green cloth. “You make these yourself?”  
The merchant smiled, understanding the circumstance all too well. “My wife and I are merely the distributors for these fine cloths, for the most part. The dye on the linen is all done by hand when it arrives at our shop, however. What specifically is your employer in the market for at this moment?” He asked, obviously accustomed to the question about the various fabrics.  
“Nothing too special,” he answered, approaching the counter. “This will do.” He grabbed Anton by the hair and slammed him headfirst on the counter. He was stunned, bleeding from his forehead. It gave the man time to circle around and wrap the green cloth around his neck, choking him.   
The merchant’s hands flew to his neck, attempting to pull the cloth from his throat as he fought for breath. “W-why?” he managed to sputter, gasping and fighting back hard.  
“Nothing personal, buddy.” The grip tightened, cutting off the air supply. “Reeves just needs to learn his place is all. You’ve been a wonderful motivator today.”  
Anton struggled, his body beginning to twitch from lack of oxygen. “Please.” The word was drawn out and barely audible through the sounds of the fight.  
“Hey, let me ask you something: you know what Schlect sounds like?” Kenny didn’t even wait for a response as he whipped out his trusty knife and slit his throat, making sure to draw out the horrible sound of arteries being severed. “Like that.”  
Anton’s corpse was dropped to the ground behind the counter. Blood flowed from his throat and spread across the wooden floor.  
“Hmm.” Kenny tossed the green satin cloth aside and spotted a blue scarf hanging on a nearby rack. “Abel will like that.” Tossing a few coins onto the counter, he pocketed the fabric. “Let’s see how long it’ll take for--.”  
The door was kicked open as two Military Police officers came barrelling inside, rifles drawn.  
“Hands up now!” the woman officer ordered, taking aim at his head.  
“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” Kenny complained. “I paid for it. It ain’t shoplifting.”  
“No, it’s murder in the first degree.” The brunette woman’s grey eyes flashed in anger.   
“Allegedly.” Kenny’s smirk widened into a grin. Oh, he had been waiting for this day for a long time.  
“You think we haven’t been watching your every move since the moment you entered this store, dirtbag?” The male soldier broke his silence, the sentence laced with hatred. “Good luck getting away.”  
He tipped his hat to them. “Why, thank you.”   
Kenny thrust his foot out, kicking the rack right at them with unusual strength. The pair of MPs staggered, the weight of the rack knocking them off balance, though the woman was able to maintain her grip on her rifle. She fired off a shot that passed easily over Kenny’s shoulder. He closed the distance between the two rapidly, knife still soaked in Anton’s blood in his hand. He knocked aside the rifle and thrust his knife into her throat, pulling out just as fast, before throwing it into the man’s skull through his left eye. The soldier went down heavily, the blow killing him instantly. Kenny pulled out one of his guns and walked over to the woman violently gagging on the ground. “Shut up,” he said, unloading a round that caused her head to explode.  
As he reloaded and took back his knife, his ears picked up the sounds of angry shouts drawing closer to the shop. Now, things were getting interesting. He turned towards the back door and dashed towards it, kicking it so hard, the door flew off its hinges. He took off down the alley as he pocketed the knife in exchange for his second gun. A shot rang out from behind him, causing him to duck. The bullet whizzed by his head, lodging in the brick of one of the many buildings in this industrial area. “Fuck, that was too close,” he grumbled, returning fire and speeding up his pace as he zigzagged through the backstreets on his way to one of his many safehouses.   
“Squad Three, cut him off!” a woman’s shrill voice commanded while he reloaded. “Don’t let him escape.”  
Up ahead, he could see three riflemen blocking his path with their guns aimed at him. Kenny didn’t even hesitate to fire back as he jumped into the window of a nearby house. He ignored the screams of whatever family lived here. After he took a second to reload, he shoved a guy out of the way and bashed the front door open, taking off into the crowd. No way in hell the MPs would fire into a crowd.  
He was proven wrong when two shots rang into the air, one hitting the ground where his foot was a second ago, and another grazing the leg of a man next to him.  
“Private Caven, hold your fire!” the same woman demanded, pulling her back.  
“But Corporal Hauer, he’s getting away,” Caven, a blonde-haired woman, protested.  
“We do not put civilians in harm’s way. You do that again, and I will see your court-martialed. Understand?” Kyler growled, nose-to-nose with the private.  
Caven relented with an annoyed sigh. “Understood.”  
Kenny ignored their squabble as he continued running throughout the plaza. Any morons that got in front of him were knocked aside. No use in wasting rounds on them. However, he was taken off-guard by an MP that tackled him into a food cart full of fruits. Points for the balls, but they were immediately taken away by his stupidity. Kenny smashed his head with a melon before firing a round into his chest. He took cover behind the fallen cart as shots grazed him. Seems like the corporal had caught up.  
“Last chance to surrender,” Kyler warned, her guns fixed on his position.  
Kenny let out a cackle. “Lady, do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”  
“A future, rotting corpse,” she sneered, reloading.  
“Name’s Kenny the Ripper, and I’ll see you in Hell, bitch.” He flung himself out of cover and fired both rounds, but he was surprised to see her and that Caven girl dodge them while returning fire. Seemed like someone in the military learned a thing or two about fighting. The civilians were long since scattered away, giving the MPs the opportunity to go all out. Windows exploded from the rounds thrown both ways, the shards raining upon them like snow. None of the trio engaged in the combat paid this any attention. Kenny moved as if he was dancing, weaving between the shots. He was so fast, it was like he wasn’t even human. He managed to score a shot right into Caven’s left shoulder. She recoiled backwards into the wall, clutching her bleeding wound in pain. With Kyler properly distracted, Kenny raised his other gun at her head and pulled the trigger.  
Click.  
“Oh, come on!” he groaned, checking for more ammo. “Damn it.” With an annoyed sigh, he brought the bloody knife back out and approached them. “Plan B it is then.”  
Kyler raised her gun at him. “Don’t. Move,” she warned once more, panting heavily.  
He smirked, halting in his tracks. “You don’t have any rounds left.”  
“You willing to take that gamble, Kenny?” Kyler dared. “Because if I don’t kill you, she will.” She indicated Caven, who held a flintlock in the other hand albeit shaky from her injuries.  
Kenny eyed the two before laughing. “You’re good. I’ll give you that, but you aren’t faster than me. No one is. Ask the Garbers.”  
“Try us,” Kyler said, her green eyes piercing into his.  
The three stood motionless, waiting for someone to make the first move that would end this whole thing. The officers’ fingers were on the triggers, preparing to shoot. Kenny, however, stood confidently with his knife and winning smile. It was like he was asking them to go first.  
Before any of them could begin the bloodbath, angry shouts started coming for them.  
“Another time, ladies,” Kenny said with his signature, sadistic grin.  
He knocked Kyler’s arm aside, causing Caven to accidentally discharge her weapon into the ground. The sound disoriented them long enough for the man to run into the alley. With the reinforcements slowing down to check on the injured soldiers, there was no chance of them catching up to the psychopath.  
What a day to be alive. Kenny thought to himself as he vanished from sight.  
\-------------------

Urklyn shook off a sense of foreboding as he walked quickly toward the plaza. Enter the alleyway just beyond the bakery with the green-striped awning. Come at dusk. Don’t be followed. As before, he had memorized the instructions and burnt the note. Less than a week had passed since he had last spoken to Kyler, giving her the crucial information on where and how to find Kenny. He wasn’t sure whether the quick response from Kyler to establish another meeting was good or not, but he was about to find out.  
Once he was far enough into the alleyway, he was suddenly shoved against the wall with an arm pinning him against it.  
“You son of a bitch,” Kyler growled, eyes blazing with rage. “You set us up.”  
` “I didn’t,” he protested, his anxiety shooting through the roof.  
The corporal was not sated, even after she punched him the gut so hard, he sunk to the ground. “Five of my men are dead and three are injured because of Kenny. Because of you. I should kill you right here.”  
Urklyn let out a violent cough as he glared up at her. “But you won’t. Not if you value your life, Kyler.”  
Her eyes narrowed at him. “You playing a game, Urklyn?”  
“I’m stating facts,” he answered. “What do you think is gonna happen to you, to the Military Police, if you murdered me? Even if you dispose of my body, my family will find out, and they will dismantle the entire regiment to get their vengeance. Is that what you want?”  
It was so tempting to put a round in his head, consequences be damned. The fallout, however, would be irreparable, and she couldn’t leave with herself if innocent people died because of her ill-conceived actions. “You warned us Kenny was a force to be reckoned with,” she admitted, helping him up. “I didn’t realize how much of a force.”  
“Kenny is a monster unlike any I’ve ever seen,” Urklyn said, clutching his abdomen. “My parents, Frieda, and I are the only ones who know his true nature. You just got it when you tried to arrest him.”  
“All I have to show for it is a heavily demoralized regiment, and several graves to fill,” she replied with a bowed head.  
“Not completely true.” Urklyn withdrew a piece of paper from his jacket. “My father and Kenny had a discussion yesterday about him laying low. This is the location of one of his hideouts. You might find Kenny, you might find supplies, but I know for damn sure this is something they don’t want you to find.”  
Kyler took the piece of paper and said, “I’ll have to choose wisely when to act on this. No use in implicating you if I can help it.”  
“So, does that mean we are allies?” He hoped aloud.  
“It means if we get caught, we’ll be branded as traitors and executed,” Kyler told him. “If we succeed, however, we may just be able to put an end to all of this.” She pocketed the information and walked away. “I’ll be in touch.”  
For once, Urklyn breathed a sigh of relief. He finally struck a blow against his father, against Kenny. Perhaps this wouldn’t mean much at first, but it was a step closer to his goal nonetheless. When the corruption was gutted, he’d be able to save his sister and bring down his parents once and for all.


	10. Adjustments and Perceptions

(Year 846)

“Damn it, Abel! You’re not supposed to hit below the belt,” Dirk groaned, doubled over in agony.  
“Sorry, it was a reflex,” she fibbed, chuckling softly, but that ended abruptly as she was struck on the back by a well-aimed roundhouse kick. The blow threw off her balance, and a steel-toed boot to the backside sent her tumbling into a heap.  
“Was that a reflex too, Abel?” Kenny sneered, adjusting his hat as he straightened, watching the angry teenager scramble to her feet.  
“Abel, we all know that was a lie. Just tell the truth next time and say that you wanted to fight dirty,” Florian chided from her seat on the grass.   
“Shut up, Florian. You’re supposed to be training too.” Abel spat back as she pulled out a wooden dagger, adjusting her grip until it was comfortable.   
Being a year older did little to temper Abel's attitude. The girl had recently passed her thirteenth birthday, and was every bit of the emotional cannon. She’d grown several inches taller, but was still learning to balance with the constant changes that puberty was bringing. Her figure was clearly in the awkward transitional stage between child and young woman, though her face still had the childish fullness for now.  
“Go sit down, shrimp boy,” Kenny ordered. “It'll pass.”  
Shrimp boy. While his siblings experienced growth, Dirk was still five foot one, and he was fifteen for gods’ sake. Kenny and Abel didn't hesitate to give him that wonderful moniker, though his parents assured him he would have a growth spurt… maybe.   
Dirk grimaced and slowly stumbled to sit gingerly on the grass beside Florian. “I’ll be regaining my dignity and my honor as soon as I’m able to stand again,” he vowed.  
“We’ll see about that. I intend to keep my spot as ‘Uncle Kenny’s favorite pupil’ when it comes to fighting. And someday, I will be the one to win in a fight against him. Just you wait.” Abel circled around the Reiss’ family bodyguard, waiting for him to make the first move.  
Kenny chuckled darkly. “In your dreams, kiddo. I’ll have to be dead for you to get the upper hand on me. Your fighting has gotten better, though. Good to know your lessons didn't stop just because I was on an extended vacation.” His foot shot out quickly, tripping the girl while his hand simultaneously gripped her wrist, causing the wooden implement to fall harmlessly to the ground.  
Abel glared at him, her free hand swinging up to strike him firmly on the jaw. She twisted hard against his grip and managed to keep herself from falling by the skin of her teeth, following the uppercut with a solid blow to the groin. “I might fight dirty, but I hate to lose,” she seethed.  
Kenny didn’t give her the same satisfaction as Dirk did, but he still staggered back a step, spitting blood out of his mouth from where he’d bitten through his lip. “Not bad, brat. But you still got a long way to go until you’re in the same league as your dear Uncle Kenny.”  
She huffed, her wrist stinging from the force he had used to disarm her. “Perhaps, but I still managed to draw blood. I call that a victory.”  
Kenny ignored her to look over at Florian. “You’re up, Flo. We’ll see if you can win by going two-on-one with the spitfire here against me.”  
The baby of the Reiss family sighed, shaking the grass off her only pair of trousers. “I’m ready,” she said, sounding anything but. At eleven, she too had grown slightly over the space of the year, but had yet to reach the cusp of young adulthood. And from watching her elder siblings going through it simultaneously, she was hardly looking forward to her turn arriving at that stage. She counted her blessings that she was able to maintain her current skills without needing to compensate for anything.  
Abel rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you try that again, with feeling this time?”  
Dirk snickered from his spot on the grass. “Maybe she’s just ‘flowing’ with so much emotion that she can’t bear to part with any of it,” he wise-cracked.  
Kenny responded by throwing a rock at him.   
“I’m ready,” Florian repeated with more emotion, putting up her hands in a defensive position as she stepped up beside Abel. She hated these lessons, and didn’t see much point in having to go through the motions of having to fight, but since it meant a break from the mostly humorless tutor she’d been given, she could put on the appearance of a studious pupil.   
“Same strategy as we used on Father?” Florian softly asked Abel. The elder girl gave a short nod, and the pair of girls began a slow, menacing circle around the man, who started to chuckle.  
“And how well did whatever strategy you used work on Rod? Did you land any blows on him, sit him on his fat ass?” Kenny mocked. “Must’ve been quite the scene.”  
“Oh, it really was! For a minute, I thought they’d really managed to take him down. Too bad that Father always a back-up plan and wouldn’t let them win,” Dirk piped up from where he was lounging on his stomach, chewing a piece of wheat as he watched the others preparing for their fight.  
Florian lowered her guard just enough to shoot her brother a dark look, and immediately regretted that decision. Abel launched her opening attack as Dirk was explaining, kicking at Kenny’s head. He blocked the kick with his forearm and sent her leg spinning hard against her sister, the foot connecting with Florian’s stomach. She gasped hard at the force of the blow, and fought to catch her breath and her footing.   
“You’re gonna pay for that!” Abel swore, shifting her weight in a defensive move. “I was the one who was fighting you. You had no right to attack Flo.”  
Kenny laughed at that stupid statement. “What, you don’t want your Uncle Kenny fighting dirty too? Aww, I might have to cry at how cruel and unfair you are.” With a skillful one-two move that landed with a sickening crunch, he had Abel curled around herself on the ground, whimpering in pain. He stood over her like a giant ready to crush his prey into the ground. “All of you are fair game, Abel, no matter who's fighting or who's watching. If you aren't vigilant, you're dead.”  
Abel couldn't answer him, too focused on her own injuries.   
Having enough, Kenny straightened his hat. “Overall, you kids have shown some good improvement, but it’s a good thing I’m back to keep you whipped into shape.” With that parting comment, he walked away, heading in the direction of the house.  
Dirk pushed himself to his feet and went over to where Florian was coughing as she caught her breath. Abel was crying and cursing, clutching her ribcage. “Fuck, that asshole broke my ribs. Just when I thought we were getting better and might have a chance at kicking his ass down a notch or two. This shit hurts!” She sobbed, her breathing coming in pained heaves.  
For once, Florian didn’t try to stop her sister from cursing, but instead wrapped an arm around her shoulder, attempting to soothe her. Dirk, for his part, took on the responsibility of helping his injured sister to her feet, and supporting her weight as they hobbled back to the house. “I’m sorry, Abel. I’ll kick his ass next time for you, okay?” He tried to reassure her, but was met with only a pained grunt in response.  
\---------------------------------------

Two hours later, following a check-up from a physician to confirm that her lungs were unharmed, Abel sat on her bed with Dirk and Florian seated on Florian’s bed.   
“Three cracked ribs. That was the final verdict, apparently.” The bitterness of her tone told her siblings exactly how she felt about her present circumstance.   
Dirk and Florian exchanged a look, Florian glancing away first to gaze towards the door before meeting her sister’s eyes. “From what we heard, you'll get a break on the combat training for at least a month or two, depending on how quickly you heal,” she whispered.   
Abel swore under her breath, “Shit, and I was really enjoying that training too. Now I'll have to be ‘a proper lady’ and stay in the house so I don't exert myself.” She scowled, fidgeting with the blankets in her fingers.   
“Well, you've got us to keep you company,” Dirk said helpfully. “Maybe Urklyn too, though…” He trailed off.   
“I know. I've seen it too. Something's going on. And not just with him. With Frieda too.” Florian chimed in, folding her hands in her lap.  
Abel shifted uncomfortably with a grimace and clutched her ribcage. Dirk wordlessly stood and adjusted the pillows behind her back, earning a rare, grateful smile from the younger girl. Settling back and trying to mask her pain, she spoke up. “What's wrong with Urklyn? I haven't seen him much.”   
“That's the point. None of us have. If he's not shadowing Father and Frieda, he's nowhere to be found for much of the day,” the ever-observant baby of the family explained.   
Dirk nodded in agreement. “He's been brushing me off, too. I mean, more than usual.”  
Abel was silent, digesting what she'd just heard. “He's either got a girlfriend or a project he's working on. It would explain the change in behavior,” she thought aloud. “And Frieda? I mean, she's not riding my ass. Not since the bathhouse incident.”  
Dirk blanched. “It's been four months. Why did you have to bring that up again, Abel?” He groaned, burying his blushing face in his hands. “I had finally forgotten about it. Thanks a lot!”  
Abel waited until he lifted his head to give him a cheeky grin. “Oh, c’mon. You're just sore because you can't take as good as you give when it comes to ribbing.”  
Florian snorted. “‘Ribbing’? Really, Abel? You're ‘cracking’ jokes like that already?”   
Dirk lost it then, throwing his head back laughing hard.   
Abel started to join but gasped sharply. “Augh! I can't laugh. It hurts too badly.”   
Sobering up quickly, Dirk spoke first. “I have been giving Frieda her space after that whole debacle. I don't want to make her angry.” He admitted. “Actually, that reminds me. Can we talk about something?”  
Two sets of eyes locked with his at the shift of tone from amusement to seriousness. “Of course. What is it, Dirk?” Florian prompted him.   
Dirk clicked his tongue a few times, trying to find the words. “Things have been… different lately. It's not just Urklyn, but it's Frieda and our parents too.”  
“What do you mean?” Abel asked, slightly perplexed.  
“Ever since Uncle Uri died, everyone's changed,” he said. “Urklyn's doing his own thing, our parents are more tense, and Frieda… sometimes, I don't recognize her. She practically bit my head off when I knocked over her statue of Ymir.”  
Florian looked at her hands for a long moment before adding her two cents worth. “With Frieda, I think a good portion of the changes have to do with the ‘holy inheritance’ that she--”  
“Don't talk about it,” Dirk growled suddenly. “That damn inheritance is nothing but a curse.”  
Abel nodded. “I’ve thought the same thing, but gods only know what would happen if we voiced such an opinion.”  
“So, what do we do? There’s nothing we can do to change the fact that she’s got it now,” Florian said dejectedly.  
“I'm keeping my distance,” Dirk answered. “Best thing we can all do, actually.”  
“Well, that’s easy enough for me, especially now.” Abel gestured to her torso. “Not that she’s ever been eager to spend time with me.”  
Florian remained quiet, not liking the idea of having to avoid her eldest sister. “What about our parents?”  
“Try not to get in trouble with them,” he suggested. “I, for one, would rather not be on the receiving end of their wrath.”  
“Dirk, you're blowing this thing out of proportion,” Abel pointed out, shaking her head. “I can't stand Mom, but she and Dad aren't ghouls that are going to eat our brains in the middle of the night.” Congratulations, Mother. You got me to defend you.  
“I know that, but…” Dirk's voice trailed off for a moment. “Something isn't right and I can't figure out why.”  
“Maybe Urklyn knows something we don't,” Abel said, fiddling with her blankets. “Or maybe I'm overthinking things.”  
They were so deep into their conversation that they didn't notice Florian sneak out.  
\---------------

A feral roar shook the crystal caverns as Frieda hurled yet another broken pillar at the wall. The Titan shifter was trying (and failing) to release some of the pent-up anger and guilt that plagued her constantly.   
Screaming about it won't change the facts.  
I sent 250,000 of my people to their deaths! And less than 200 came back alive! A scream in anguish is more than reasonable.  
You did what had to be done. Would you rather have the entire population collectively starve to death while you do nothing but watch?  
So genocide of a few for the sake of the multitude? Is that we’ve been relegated to?  
Better than your ancestors’ actions. They would have sooner burn countries down than make a personal sacrifice as you did.   
This so-called ‘personal sacrifice’ better protect my family. Otherwise, what would--  
A shuffling of debris caught her attention. She wasn't alone in the caves.  
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Frieda demanded, whirling to face the stairs.  
Slowly, her baby sister stepped out of hiding from one of the crystal pillars. She looked quite frightened of her.  
“Florian? What are you doing down here? It’s not safe for you!” Frieda exclaimed, quickly dropping the fragment of a shattered pillar she had been clutching. “You shouldn’t be here.”  
“I know, Frieda,” Florian responded, keeping her distance. “I know I'm not allowed down here while you train, but I really needed to talk to you.”  
“What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until I was back in the house this afternoon?” Frieda asked, her tone softening. She took several steps closer to her sister, then took a seat heavily on the floor facing her. “You’ve got my attention now.”  
Florian looked down, unable to look her sister in her massive eyes. “I'm scared, Frieda,” she whispered.  
Frieda cocked her giant head sideways. “Scared? What is there to be afraid of?”  
The baby of the family let out a nervous breath that did little to calm herself. “I don't know what's going on. Our parents are more tense around us, Urklyn is never really around anymore, and if we upset you, you'll…” She caved, unable to finish her sentence.  
“If I get upset, you’re afraid I’m going to snap, like I did with Dirk. Is that what you mean?” the young queen asked, a look of resignation settling on her face.  
Florian nodded. “Yes. I'm sorry, sister. I don't want to be afraid of you, but I am. I don't want to stay away from you.”   
“Yet you feel like you don’t have much choice,” Frieda realized. She was silent in her thoughts for a moment before replying. “Is there anything that might be able to change that, Flo? I mean, no matter what, the holy inheritance is my burden to carry from now on.”  
“I want things to go back!” she suddenly shouted. “I'm sick of watching the constant arguments. I'm sick of having to tread lightly with my own family. I'm sick of the holy inheritance that took Uncle Uri away. I'm sick of Ymir Fritz turning a blind eye to our suffering.”  
Impudent child. Does she not know who she rails against?  
Frieda refused to speak harshly to her baby sister in response. How could she? There was truth within her frustrations. “I can’t turn back time and remove this curse on her family. Believe me, I would if I could, but I’m still your older sister. I’m here for you.” Her words were spoken softly in spite of the Titan form.  
“Until you're taken away, too,” Florian said with tears in her eyes.   
Frieda fought the urge to cry as well, picking up her sister in her arms, and embracing her warmly against her face. “I will find a way, Flo. I won't let the curse take me away from you, from our siblings.”  
She buried her face into her cheek, shaking. “How? No one else has done it.”  
“I-I’m not sure yet,” The elder girl admitted, a tear flowing down her cheek. “But even still, there has to be a way. And I’ll find it.”  
Florian didn't respond as she clung onto her sister's face.  
Frieda just held her there as she cherished the moment she had with her baby sister. It reminded her the reason why she took the power in the first place. Whatever it took, she would protect her family. The loss of twenty percent of the population became more bearable.


	11. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

“Stop laughing, Abel! This isn't funny,” Frieda demanded, glaring at her from across the table. “You too, Dirk.”  
“I wasn't laughing,” Dirk protested with a slight snigger.  
“You were thinking it,” the Queen of the Eldians shot back.  
Greta simply gave the immature teenagers a stern look that shut them up before addressing her eldest child. “Frieda, it’s high time for you to begin your secondary mission as the True Queen,” she told her.  
Frieda scowled, “Whatever happened to letting me choose this for myself?”  
“We're not just going to dump a man on you and say ‘have fun’,” Rod told her. “We'll bring in a selection of suitable candidates.”  
“Just pick Dirk,” Abel suggested. “He’s already seen Frieda naked.”  
“One. Fucking. Time!” Dirk exclaimed, hitting the table with his head.  
“Abel, shut the hell up. Dirk, you’re already off the hook with that. Father, please,” Frieda pleaded. “I already have precious little free time amidst my other responsibilities. The last thing I need is to sacrifice that to some stupid boy or another!”  
Greta hemmed and hawed for a moment before asking, “Frieda, are you against this because you're... not attracted to men? If you aren’t, that's fine, but you do need a man for--”  
“MOTHER!” Frieda shouted, slamming her hands down in the embarrassment and indignation. “I’m not attracted to other women! I just don’t want a fucking boyfriend right now! Can’t you just let it go?”  
Best. Dinner. Ever. Abel thought with a smug grin. Welcome back to being human, Frieda.  
“Frieda, sit down!” Rod rarely raised his voice at her, but this was a special occasion.  
Frieda slowly slid back into her seat, her cheeks still flush with anger.  
“First off, I will not have crass language at this table from any of you. You are nobility. Act like it,” Rod said sternly before addressing his daughter. “Frieda, it's been four years since you received the inheritance. There isn't much time left. You need to produce a suitable heir long before it's too late. That's the way things are.”  
“So I’m to be nothing more than a baby-producing figurehead. Perfect. Just what I always wanted,” Frieda deadpanned without missing a beat.  
“You're more than that,” Greta responded softly. “You are a queen, and a queen must do what she must for the sake of her people.”  
Frieda sighed. “I see that I have no choice in the matter. When do I have to start seeing these imbeciles?” she asked bitterly.  
“In two days,” Rod answered. “Remember, act like the Queen you were born to be.” His tone was harsh and final, leaving no more room for argument.   
\-----------------  
“Well, you're in a fine mess, aren't you?” Abel asked as she sat on the edge of the tub, toes dangling in the water. The renovations following the whole Titan-in-the-bathhouse incident had been completed a month prior, restoring it to its former glory. Greta had instructed that it be more heavily reinforced in case of any future mishaps, but the decorator had masked it well with new paint and additional sconces.   
“You don’t say. At least they aren’t breathing down your neck about it yet. But don’t be too smug. Your turn will come,” Frieda said from her seat half-submerged in the steaming water.  
“In the meantime, let's talk strategy,” Abel suggested. “So, you're gonna have to have sex with one of these morons? Just don't bother wearing anything. If a guy tries to go for your body without permission, don't pick him and kick his ass. If a guy restrains himself, test him out. See if he's good enough.”  
Frieda’s mouth fell open. “I can’t believe I’m taking advice from my little sister on this, or that you would even suggest such a thing! I’m not just going to parade my naked ass in front a guy!”  
“Not your ass, dummy. Your assets,” she corrected. “Look, we both know this is a stupid idea that you can't get out of. Might as well have fun with it.”  
The young queen thought about that for a moment. “You know, that's not a bad idea, having fun with the whole thing. And I mean, hey, I have an excuse to help with those urges that come up now and then.” She gave a slightly evil grin to her sister.   
“That’s more like it!” Abel splashed water with her toe at her eldest sister.  
“I don't suppose that you've got some ideas on how to handle the boring ones? Oh Goddess forbid, if one of these assholes turns out to be as old as Father…” Frieda trailed off, looking sick.   
Abel gagged. “Oh fuck that! We’ll definitely have to give you a reasonable excuse to find a nice, young stud instead of a creepy old codger with one foot in the grave,” she said with a giggle.   
“I most certainly will not be ‘fucking that’!” She retorted, sending the younger girl into a fit of raucous laughter. Frieda threw a wet wash rag at her sister to shut her up, the cloth smacking her squarely on the face. “That's not funny! I have no idea what kind of men Father will deem as being ‘appropriate’. I may have to suffer through the personal company of one of those decrepit, pompous fools.” She shuddered at the notion.  
“When that happens, only one thing to do.” Abel smirked. “Pray to Ymir for a swift and fatal heart attack.”  
Frieda gave her a wicked smile. “For once, we can agree on something.”  
\-----------------  
The day of my doom has arrived. I am not ready for this. Frieda pasted on a smile as she strode into the palace gardens. The beauty of being nobility was the access to elaborate labyrinths and manicured lawns. Stone benches were strategically resting around the rose hedges, a grape arbor nestled to the side of the large white gazebo. She had spent nearly an hour perusing her wardrobe to select a dress that showed femininity without being considered immodest or overtly sensual. The lavender wrap dress she finally settled on highlighted the purple in her eyes, falling almost to her ankles. She was supposed to meet this first candidate by the grape arbor. What kind of name is Hugo Weiss anyway? Sounds like an asshole to me.  
Said asshole, however, strode in the gardens wearing a very nice suit and tie. He was certainly dressed for the occasion. Even wore a black fedora on his head. Not the usual hat for the noble, but he made it work. His beard was almost completely shaven off with no traces of nicks or scratches and his blue eyes were… quite alluring.  
“You must be Frieda Reiss,” the man greeted, putting his hat under his arm and holding out his hand. “Hugo Weiss.”  
Frieda raised an eyebrow, and lightly extended her arm, but didn’t take the offered hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” she forced herself to be sweet and gracious. Well, he looks nice enough. Not sure about his manners yet.  
“Never been invited to a courting before,” Hugo admitted. “Plenty of celebrations sure, but a courting? Can I just take a wild guess and say that this was your father’s idea?”  
The young queen gave a small smile. “Of course. That’s how it works with nobility. But I’m certain you’re already aware of that fact.”  
“Well, I suppose for some nobles, but potential suitors aren’t usually being interrogated for two hours demanding to know every facet of your life,” Hugo said, giving a smile. “All part of the charm?”  
Of course he did. Bastard. I should not have expected anything less of dear old Dad.  
“A formality, to be sure. He only wishes to have the best for his eldest daughter, you know,” Frieda replied, dropping her hand silently when she realized he had no intention of taking it or placing a kiss on the back of it.  
“Well, Lady Frieda, what is it that you want?” he asked. “If you are free to speak it.”  
“Conversation with someone outside of the family, for a start. It’s rather unusual for me to be in such a position,” Frieda cordially replied.  
“Well, I’m fulfilling your wish today,” Hugo assured. “But I can tell that you would rather not be in your position. I can tell when someone is forcing a smile.”  
“You’re quite perceptive. Typically one in your shoes would be making more flirtatious advances toward me as well, despite me offering up an opportunity.” Frieda gave a genuine smile. “You have very little desire to be here as well. Tell me, do you have a lover already?” she guessed, looking him over.  
He gave a nod and his own grin. “My parents don’t know. We’ve been seeing each other secretly for four months now.”  
“I see. Well, I hope that the two of you will be very happy together,” Frieda said politely. “Only hiccup I can foresee is how we respond to our respective families about our lack of pursuing a further relationship…” She trailed off, looking to him for his reaction.  
“I am very charming, suave individual with a nice smile, but I’m not what you are looking for in a man,” Hugo suggested cheekily.  
“Wow, and humble too, if you do say so yourself,” she gave a short laugh. “I cannot say with honesty that you were boring,”  
“That would have wounded me,” he responded. “Perhaps, someday, we can meet in a less… forceful situation. Hopefully, I’d be able to introduce you to Seth by then.”  
Frieda masked her surprise perfectly. “I should very much enjoy that. In the meantime, I beg your leave, and I thank you for the fine conversation.” With a short curtsy, she left the gardens, snickering when she got back to her carriage. Oh, wait until Abel hears about this one. Of course, the first one, a handsome man, was gay.   
\------------------  
“Oh, come on!” Abel groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. “He was the perfect boyfriend. Why?”  
“Well, you said it yourself, he WAS the perfect boyfriend. For another boy,” Frieda snickered before giving a soft sigh. “Well, one down, who knows how many Father has lined up for me. Apparently he’s been interrogating them before he’ll allow me to see any of them.”  
Abel was not paying attention, wallowing in self-pity. “Why couldn’t he be bisexual? My dreams are ruined!”  
Frieda reached over and patted her on the head, “There, there.”  
\------------------  
Another day, another damn suitor. Perhaps we’ll have better luck with the second one?  
Luck was not on her side as a balding man with gray hair entered the courtyard. He was not in the best of shape, to put it mildly, and the fact that he was old enough to be her father was…  
“How do you do, good Lady?” the man greeted, kissing her hand.   
Oh Sweet Goddess above… What are you doing to me?!  
\--------------------  
“And then, after that dreadful commoner was kicked out, the party returned to normalcy. It was then that I realized I had worn mismatched socks by accident. It was quite embarrassing if I say so myself.” The pompous, overdressed buffoon droned on.  
Frieda nodded while resting her head in her hand, a completely bored expression on her face. Goddess, will he ever SHUT THE HELL UP?  
\-----------------  
“ACHOO!!” This mousy-looking newt of a man let out a ferocious sneeze. “I’m so sorry,” he said with a stuffy nose that made him sound very nasally. “I swear, I wasn’t like this yesterday. Must be the pollen. Can we try again somewhere else?”  
Frieda withdrew her hand, tucking it behind her back, and stepping daintily back. “My apologies, I need to relieve myself. I will be back momentarily,” She made as if she was going to the restroom, but quickly got into her carriage and left. OH HELL NO!  
\------------------  
“So, yeah, I’m in a pretty big family like you. Parents are more fond of my sister, though. I don’t see why she’s so special. She’s so uptight all the time, doesn’t really get out and enjoy the fresh air.” Dirk tossed her a lemon. “How about you? What’s your family like?”  
“Dirk, what the hell are you doing here?” Frieda asked, shaking her head at her younger brother.  
“Uh, about the suitor that was supposed to be here. He kind of… had a carriage accident,” he admitted. “Passed away about an hour ago. I didn’t want your morning to be a total waste of time.”  
Frieda’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh gods, please don’t tell that he was another old-as-death fart!”  
“I think that was the other suitor he crashed into,” Dirk answered.  
Frieda buried her face in her hands. There’s no hope. This will never end.   
\------------------  
“Hey, good looking. If you’re not satisfied with just one of us--.”  
“--you can get us both.”  
Twins. It just had to be twins.   
“Does that sort of line usually entice young women?” Frieda asked, rolling her eyes.  
“Well… no,” the first twin admitted.  
“Then leave. Now.” She pointed to the door.  
\-----------------------  
“This place is a maze,” a stout man with an oversized collar muttered to himself before spotting the gazebo. “Ah, there it… is?”  
Frieda had pulled off what was arguably her most risky stunt to date. She was seated on a bench inside the gazebo, naked as the day she was born. She had situated herself so that her state of undress was visible, but that the important aspects were covered by her posture. “See something you like, stud?’  
The man just stared at the sight before him for a long time. Then, his body fell backwards onto the grass with a loud thump.  
“That went better than I expected. That’s a first.” She sighed and pulled her dress back on.  
\-----------------  
“Oh, my Gods. I can’t believe you thought I was serious,” Abel laughed, dodging a pillow that was thrown at her face. “What idiot would actually go on a first date completely naked?”  
“Well, it was either going to end badly, or end badly, depending on how you looked at it. I just happened to expedite that,” her elder sister replied with a soft chuckle.  
“Haven’t heard Mother yell like that in years. Not even at me,” Abel said. “Well done.”  
“I aim to entertain.” Frieda gave a mock bow. “Seriously though, I hope they will finally stop shoving guys my direction for awhile. Even for all of Mother’s yelling, I still wasn’t in trouble, per say.”  
“Confined to the crystal caves for three days says otherwise,” her younger sister pointed out, “but at least they didn’t withhold food from you until you wrote a long essay about how you’re sorry you didn’t bring children into the world today.”  
“That is true.” Frieda smiled softly. Everything was finally going back to normal. Or what would pass for normal in the Reiss family.  
“Well, good luck with the next guy,” Abel said, flopping back on her bed.  
Or not.  
A week after being released from her three miserable days of punishment, Rod approached Frieda. “I have another suitor for you to meet. Be prepared tomorrow at 10am. You’ll be meeting at the same courtyard cafe as before. Do not consider embarrassing this family again.”   
Frieda lowered her head in respect. “Yes, Father.”  
\--------------------------------------------  
The courtyard cafe was a favorite among the nobles within the Walls, and with good reason. Its placement was ideal, the food was superb, and the atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable, whether one chose to take a seat inside, or outside at the patio tables overlooking the gardens or the courtyard. Following the fallout from the gazebo incident, Frieda found herself enjoying the slight bustle of people passing by. The gardens had held more of an expectation, due in part to the full privacy that the labyrinths created. Sipping her tea, she looked around for the young man who was scheduled to be meeting with her.  
Her eyes settled on a pleasant young man, mid-twenties approaching the cafe. He appeared well groomed but lacked the full polish that the more egocentric young men all seemed to have. He wore a dark blue suit with a striped tie, his hair was slightly damp and his face clean-shaven, both evidence that he had recently cleaned himself up. As he strode closer, she could see dark green eyes peeking from underneath the lock of nearly-black hair that curled over his forehead. Hello, handsome. Goddess help me, if he’s not the one I’m supposed to meet, I may just sneak away to speak to him when things inevitably go south.  
Luck was on her side, as he came up to the table, and gave a slight bow before offering her a hand. “Lady Reiss? My name is Nathaniel Fleischer. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  
Frieda stood, allowing him to kiss the back of her hand. “The pleasure is all mine. I hope you don’t mind that I already had some tea brought during the brief few minutes I was waiting.”  
His face flushed as he pulled out her chair and assisted her in taking her seat once more. “My apologies. I lost track of the hour during my morning ride, and I had to hasten through the shower, as well as making my way here.”  
Frieda gave him a sincere smile, “Rest assured, you weren’t late. I was merely a few minutes early myself. One can make the assumption then that you enjoy riding. Is your preferred steed a mare or a stallion, Nathaniel?” she asked, hoping to ease his concern.  
Nathaniel visibly relaxed. “Please, call me Nate. Nathaniel is formal, and reserved for more noble occasions.”  
Frieda dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement. “Likewise with ‘Lady Reiss’. You may use Frieda, unless you choose to remain stiff rather than enjoy a pleasant conversation from a fellow horse enthusiast.”  
The young man gave a soft chuckle. “Noted. To answer your question, Frieda, I have a black gelding named Mitternacht that I prefer to ride on most days. He is starting to advance in years, so there are days that I allow him to rest and take a chestnut filly that I’ve recently obtained.”  
The young queen gave a short nod, but responded with warmth. “My own steed of choice is a gray mare named Estiel. She’s gentle and I have her colt being saddle broken as we speak.”   
“The filly's name is Seraphina,” he replied after taking a sip of tea. “She may not be the fastest right now, but give her time to grow and she'll surprise you.”  
“And grow they shall. Tell me, Nate, what first piqued your interest in horses?” Frieda asked curiously.  
“Horses have been part of my life since I was born,” Nate answered. “My family breeds them, actually. We use them for transportation and the occasional race. A couple of fine steeds were given to Scout Regiment for their Expeditions. To be honest, it's more likely we'll see the horses return from battle more than their riders.”  
Frieda winced, all too familiar with the statistics of the Scouts. “Unfortunately, that’s no surprise to me. What an honor for your family to have such an important job for our country and our people.”   
“It does have its perks,” Nate said with a relaxed smile. “After all, it gives me the opportunity to meet beautiful women.”  
Frieda gave a slight laugh. “Well, as much as I’m sure you tend to turn heads, I can’t say that I’m all that surprised.” She studied him from behind her teacup.  
He laughed back. “Of course I turn heads. I ride a horse.”  
“Oh, I’m sure that they aren’t looking at the horse as soon as they catch sight of those green eyes of yours,” Frieda said, dropping the subtlety.  
Strong one, huh? That's new. “Usually, they're looking in the direction of the pavement as they jump out of my way.”  
The young queen shook her head, chuckling. “Well, regardless, I’m sure you leave quite the impression on them. Hopefully it’s not one smelling of manure.”  
“Occupational hazard when dealing with horses,” he said, staring at her eyes. “You brought up my eyes, but I can't see how people wouldn't want to gaze into yours.”  
A flush crept onto Frieda’s cheeks. Damn, he’s smooth when he wants to be. “I can’t always say the feeling is mutual. To have a pleasant conversation like this with you, after all the disasters my father has arranged of late.” She paused to flash another smile. “It’s refreshing to say the least.”  
“Well, it turns out all you have to do to meet the lovely Frieda Reiss is bribe your father with a couple of steeds,” Nate said cheekily.  
Frieda’s mouth dropped open. “You had to bribe them to meet me? Rude! You should have just used your endless charm.” She shot him a wink to acknowledge the joke made.   
Joking around, and a common interest in horses. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as she had anticipated. And it was all thanks to meeting a young man under the name of Nathaniel Fleischer.


	12. Unanticipated Outcomes

No matter how old she was, Kyler felt like a child standing outside the principal’s office whenever she paid a visit to her commanding officer. After all, these meetings would result in her staying on the force or being swiftly removed. As far as she knew, she hadn’t earned his ire, though that didn’t prevent her nerves from rising.  
The door finally opened, the commander’s assistant peaking outside. “The commander will see you now.”  
Nodding, she stepped inside and gave a customary salute.  
The office of the commander of the Military Police was ornate but not stuffy. Several awards hung on the wall above his desk, displaying the high esteem he held with certain high-ranking people. Across his desk was a large map of Paradis, enhanced detail on the Interior Walls. The man, Nile Dawk, himself was seated behind the desk, his hands folded under his chin as he studied a point on the map.   
Hearing the door open, his dark eyes met Kyler’s. “Corporal Hauer, at ease. Have a seat.”  
“Yes, sir,” she responded cordially before sitting in the wooden chair. Wall Sina was of the upper class yet they still had a high demand for uncomfortable chairs. “Kenny the Ripper is still at large. However, we managed to raid one of his hideouts in Stohess and seized all weapons and supplies.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “This is the catalogue on everything that was found in the warehouse.”   
His eyes skimmed the document briefly. “What's the status on the officers involved with your recent skirmish?”  
“Four dead and three wounded,” she answered in a grave tone. “Sir, I’ve fought criminals before, but that man…” She shook it off. “It's only a theory, but I believe that Kenny has a benefactor.”  
Her superior set the paper aside, his face revealing nothing. “An interesting notion. Would you care to elaborate on that, Corporal?”  
“You’d be very hard pressed to find these weapons on the black market, sir,” Kyler explained. “I believe Kenny would need to have a supplier at the very least, but that also raises the question of where he gets the money from to afford all this.”  
“Find some solid proof of this, and we shall proceed accordingly. Do you have anything further you wish to report?”  
Kyler shook her head. “No, sir, unless you have an angle that can help us find and bring down Kenny.”  
“None at the moment. Dismissed, Corporal Hauer.” Nile turned his focus back to the map on his desk.  
She gave another salute and walked out, her mind racing. She was sure that she struck a definite blow to Kenny Ackerman and, by extension, Rod Reiss, but she needed more. If what Urklyn said was true, then Kenny would stay hidden until Rod had another assignment for him to carry out. Perhaps it was time to start looking for bait to lure the man out of hiding. However, she couldn’t think about that. She had another scheduled meeting with Urklyn. Hopefully, this opportunity from the Restorer will pan out.  
\--------------------  
“You sure it’s safe to talk in here?” Urklyn said as the carriage began taking him and Kyler from Stohess to an unknown location.  
“You really think I would set up a meet inside a carriage without taking proper precautions, kid?” Kyler asked with a raised eyebrow. “I’m a corporal for a reason.”  
The teen looked chagrined. “Sorry, ma'am. What do you have for me?”  
“Arnold Fiedler,” she answered, handing him a document. “Minor noble in Stohess, but he has a lot of fingers in the industrial side of things ranging from the steel in certain buildings to the steel found in swords. Care to guess where I’m going with this?”  
“If he doesn’t know where Kenny is getting his weapon supplies, he will know who does,” Urklyn guessed. “Or that's the theory, at least, correct?”  
She nodded. “That’s right. We stop Kenny, that’s going to hurt your father big time.”  
Urklyn perused the document for a moment. “So, it says here that you've set a meeting between him and I tomorrow? Glad I have that time free.”  
“Lucky you,” Kyler muttered, snatching the document out of his hands. “Can’t have you walking around with those. Time to get off.”  
“What about you? You want me gone so you can go off to another secret meeting?” Urklyn asked, watching her face. “...or maybe you have a hot date?”  
Kyler rolled her eyes, not at all amused. “Keep it in your pants, kid. My personal life is not your concern.”  
Urklyn sighed but got out as commanded when the carriage came to a stop. “Thanks. Until next time.” He turned to wave but the carriage was already moving away. It quickly occurred to him that Kyler dropped him off in the middle of Stohess district, leaving him stranded to find a ride back to Mitras on his own. Giving an annoyed groan, he started walking in the direction of the capital. With any luck, he’d reach the Interior Wall in two hours.   
As he began his long expedition towards his home, he couldn’t help but feel that Kyler had it out for him, and it irritated him. He did everything she wanted, and she was still making him pay for it. Still, he supposed that he didn't have much choice but to push through, given the assistance she'd already provided for him. At least it gave him a chance to get some more fresh air for a change. That positive thinking would last about ten minutes, give or take.  
His ears picked up the sound of horses galloping in his direction, prompting Urklyn to step out of the way. The rider was on top of a black gelding while holding the reins of a chestnut filly in his other hand. Said rider glanced over at the eldest Reiss brother and skidded his horse to a halt. “Urklyn, is that you?”  
“Riding quickly through a crowded district doesn’t seem like a good idea, Nate,” Urklyn responded with a shake of his head.  
“Neither does walking alone in a district where you don't have many friends,” the man replied easily. “What brings you to Stohess?”  
“Reiss family business,” he answered automatically. So easy to lie when it was the most, common reason for him or any of siblings to be out and about. “You know how it is.” He eyed the filly. “Say, that a nice, riderless horse you’ve got there.”  
Nate laughed. “Hey, I'll make you a deal, I'll give you a lift back to Mitras in exchange for some insider information on your gorgeous sister.” He offered a hand down to Urklyn.  
“Which one? The baby, the loudmouth, or the big one?” Urklyn’s smile was frozen as he realized his slip-up.   
“The eldest, Frieda, of course.” Nate grinned, missing the reference entirely. “The one I have the pleasure of spending time with at least twice a week so far.”  
“Well, as long as that ‘insider information’ is not a euphemism for anything, it’s a deal.” He shook Nate’s hand, inwardly relieved that he dodged the bullet.  
Nate blushed. “No, it's not that. I promise you that. Here, take Seraph.” He handed the reins to Urklyn.  
“Haven’t ridden a horse in a while,” Urklyn admitted, pulling himself onto the filly’s back. “Hopefully, I still remember how to do this.”  
“I’m sure you’ll do great. She’s pretty gentle and she likes to stay close if there’s other horses nearby,” the elder young man explained, giving Urklyn a moment to catch his bearings before they started toward the Interior once more, albeit at a slower pace than Nate had been taking before.  
Urklyn did not fall off the horse, thankfully, and they were riding slow enough so the both of them didn’t have to shout. “So, what’s on your mind?”  
Nate nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “Well, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve gotten to start seeing Frieda, and while I feel like things are progressing smoothly, she still seems a touch... aloof. Like, she might not be interested in any romantic advances. Do you know why?”  
“Well, if you’ve known Frieda long enough, you’d know the whole ‘suitor’ business was our parents’ idea,” Urklyn explained, pulling the horse to a halt as a carriage passed by. “I think she’s just reminded of her duty to her family.”  
Nate waited til the carriage was gone before asking another question. “You mean her duty to marry and have children to carry on the noble bloodline?”   
And then some. “That about sums it up, yeah.”  
“While I respect that mentality, it does seem a bit unfair to the young women who then become nothing more than, pardon the phrasing, broodmares for their blood.”  
“I think Frieda wants to have that relationship, but…” He let out a sigh. “She has a tough time letting her guard down on the good days.”  
“I can’t fault her for that. But I do hope there’s a way for her to open up to me. I like her, a lot. Hell, I feel like I could be falling in love with her already. I want her to trust me. She has no reason to hide from me. She’s a gorgeous, smart, funny, amazing woman, and I just want to do right by her,” Nate explained, a soft smile and blush covering his face.  
“You use a lot of words, you know,” Urklyn commented with a smirk.   
“Well, I do talk to horses quite frequently. They don’t usually judge me on how many words I’m using,” Nate replied with a laugh. “In all seriousness, I do want to progress the relationship in a more romantic way. Any tips you might have would be much appreciated.”  
“First off, try to tone down the nobleness in your words,” Urklyn suggested. ‘“Progress the relationship’ and ‘be much appreciated’ is fine… if you’re at a dinner party trying to impress the stuck-up kids masquerading as nobles. Talk casually like commoners do. Frieda will relax a bit more.”  
“So, keep noble speak to only when we are graced with the presence-- I mean, around her parents, who expect certain standards. Got it. Anything else?” Nate asked, the pair halting their horses in the lines before proceeding through the gates back into the Interior.  
“Have you taking her horseback riding?” he asked.  
“Not yet. That’s my plan for the next time I see her. It’ll be the day after tomorrow, I think,” the young man admitted. “I confess, I’m rather excited for it. Our common love for horses is something that I rather enjoy, and I can’t wait to take her riding with me.” He paused for a moment before clarifying, “Wait! I did not mean how that sounded. Horseback riding. Not.. anything else!”   
“Nate, not even Dirk would have taken your statement out of context,” Urklyn told him. “Relax. I know you’re a good guy. That’s why you’re still alive.”  
Nate laughed again. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t be lucky enough to spend more time with Frieda.”  
“Abel would probably call that Hell,” Urklyn deadpanned. “Just be yourself, Nate, and don’t hurt her or we’re coming after you with everything we’ve got. Guns, swords, knives, unmarked graves, might even throw in a lake for you to drown in. No pressure.”  
Nate sobered at the warning but after a beat, he cracked a small smile. “What sort of family and brother would you be if you didn’t give the whole ‘you hurt her, you’re dead’ speech? Upon my honor as a nobleman, I swear I won’t hurt her. You have my word.”  
“Good. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’m stealing your horse. Bye!” With a gentle, but firm, nudge to the horse’s flank, he took off down the street.  
“I’ll collect her on Friday! Take care of that filly, Urklyn, or its your ass on the line!” Nate shouted after him, shaking his head slightly in laughter.  
\------------------------------------  
“You stole Nate’s horse?” Dirk asked with astonishment once the chestnut filly was properly secured in the stables. “Haven’t seen you pull a stunt like that since that food fight we had five years ago.”  
“Well, I had to see what he was going to do when I pulled a prank. I mean, he wouldn’t be good for Frieda long-term if he couldn’t take a joke,” Urklyn fibbed. No need to tell him that he got stuck in Stohess with no way home.  
“Well, if he comes up here with an axe to grind, I’m stepping aside,” Dirk swore.   
“Oh, I wouldn’t expect anything less from my baby brother. ‘Let everyone else take the fall first.”  
“Unless I’m well compensated,” he added good-naturedly before slipping into his casual tone. “So, big brother, what’s been going on?”  
Urklyn played dumb. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Dirk.”  
“Come on, Urklyn. We haven’t see much of you around here lately. Sure, you’re trying to get political now, but I know there’s more to it.” He smirked. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”  
Sort of, but not what he’s getting at. “No, it’s not a girl. I’ve just got a lot going on recently. Nothing really new,” he lied again. “And what do you mean ‘we’? Abel not joining in enough pranks to keep you satisfied?”  
“Believe it or not, pulling pranks isn’t my only character trait,” he told him. “I have a life, too. We just miss having our big brother being more part of it.”   
Urklyn felt a pang of remorse. Even with all of the busyness of trying to take down their parents rule, he had to keep his siblings in mind. “I’m sorry, Dirk. I’ll try to be around more.” He apologized.  
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Dirk paused and looked him in the eye. “Whatever it is that you are doing, promise me you'll be careful.”  
Urklyn nodded. “Yeah, I'll be careful. Don’t worry about me. It’ll be fine,” he said confidently. He ruffled Dirk’s hair and headed back to the house.   
\----------------------------------------

The Industrial District. Home to the manufacturing sector, providing those within the Walls with many of their textiles, weapons, and general necessities for everyday living. Lacking the beauty of the market and housing divisions, it was clear to even the casual observer what each building, block, and street focused on. This meeting was to take place in a steel manufacturing warehouse toward the south of the region.  
Urklyn checked his pocket watch and hustled to where he was scheduled to meet Arnold Fiedler. He had high hopes that the man would be able to provide him with the information that he was looking for. After all, who better to have insight on bullets and the blades that Kenny enjoyed so much than one who oversaw the making of such items?  
He slowly opened the door to the warehouse and found himself pleasantly surprised. Instead of a dark interior, the place was well lit with torches adorning the walls. However, he didn’t see any metal products within the building, which seemed a bit odd. The only piece of manufacturing he could see was a table set for the two and the noble in question sitting at its head. Unlike the majority of nobles, this man had a more lanky appearance. His light-brown hair was shoulder-length, making Urklyn wonder if he was ever mistaken for a woman from behind.  
“Lord Fiedler,” the young adult greeted with a slight bow, “it’s an honor to finally meet you.”  
Arnold paid his courtesy no heed and just snapped his fingers. Two men from the shadows, obviously the man’s bodyguards, walked up to Urklyn.  
“Arms out,” one of them demanded gruffly.  
Urklyn sighed and did as he was told. The two patted him down, searching for anything that could resemble a weapon. The bodyguard that didn’t speak detached a small sheath that was on Urklyn’s waist on the back. He pulled out a pair of karambits, two curved knives with serrated edges on them.  
“You think a noble would walk around without a means to defend himself?” Urklyn asked with a raised eyebrow.  
The two didn’t bother responding. They simply put the knives back in their sheath and tossed it on the table in front of the host of this gathering.  
“The son of Rod Reiss? I wouldn't expect anything less from him. Have a seat.” Arnold gestured to the second chair.   
Urklyn gazed at his surroundings and noticed some shadows moving. “All this protection for an eighteen-year old?” he asked, taking his seat. “Two bodyguards I get, but everyone else?”  
Arnold gave a mirthless smile. “One can never be too careful. You understand, of course.”  
“Of course, though I am curious how you managed to secure an empty warehouse,” Urklyn admitted. “With all the supply and demand within these Walls, one can only imagine how full these places would be on a good day.”  
“We recently acquired this particular warehouse. It needed a good cleaning prior to moving in our merchandise.” Arnold unfolded his hands and reached to pick up the sheath. “Nice blades you have here. Not a common weapon, even amongst nobility.” He handed the sheath back to Urklyn.  
The teenager carefully took his weapons back. “They were a gift from a mutual acquaintance. I assume you know who I’m talking about. Charming personality that makes you want to laugh, piss yourself, or commit murder on the spot.”   
The nobleman looked at Urklyn, his expression revealing nothing. “What gives you the impression that I'm acquainted with such a man?”  
“He’s always been able to get the best weapons,” Urklyn explained, pulling out one of the knives and inspecting it. He tapped the blade with his finger, taking great care not to cut himself. “They weren’t tossed around carelessly on the black market. They’re usually made fresh, meaning a supplier who knows how to make weapons, or procure them, is involved. Of course, every weaponsmith knows the law: all weapons that are created must be properly marked. Unmarked weapons are an easy way to serve prison time.” His eyes focused on the finely-crafted hilt. “Naturally, the man in question is smart enough not to carry around marked weapons. Easiest way to take down his suppliers, but if he was to give a noble child a gift, then that needed the proper markings.” He slid the karambit across the table. “Your initials are on here, Lord Fiedler.”   
Arnold fingered the hilt, and slid the blade back to the teen. “My initials are on all the merchandise that my company sells. What of it? You hardly have any sort of evidence,” he said coldly.   
“Weren’t you the one who just said that karambits are uncommon?” Urklyn asked casually. “Tracking down the maker of such a fine weapon shouldn’t be too hard for a man of your prestige. If it’s compensation you want, we can discuss price.” His eyes drifted to the shadows that seemed to draw closer to him.  
“Compensation? You're not in a position to offer me with compensation. You're looking to take me down, and that, I cannot allow you to get away with.” Arnold snapped his fingers again, and the shadows gave way to an additional five heavily armed men.   
Urklyn sighed in annoyance. “I said I wanted the supplier, not you. No need for you to overreact.” Oh, shit, they have guns. Big guns!   
“I really don't see a difference. It interferes with my operations, and I can't let a meddlesome brat do that to me.” Arnold stood and began to walk away. “Take care of him.”  
“You know, my father is going to find out you’re responsible,” Urklyn warned quickly as he felt the barrel of a gun on the back of his head. “If you know anything about him, you know he won’t stop until his vengeance has been satisfied.” Ymir Fritz, please save me! Please! I’ll clean your statues. Anything!   
“I'll take my chances. Rod Reiss doesn't scare me,” Arnold replied, not even turning around.  
Urklyn couldn’t prevent a whimper escaping from his throat as he could feel the barrel press deeper into him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. And then, his face was splattered with blood.   
Kyler lowered her hand, the bullet had created a perfect hole through the front of the man’s skull. Fortunately, the so-called bodyguard was such an idiot that the safety of his gun was still on, or Urklyn would be dead as well. She sprang through the open window, another perfect shot eliminating the second bodyguard who'd stepped toward the teen. “Urklyn, pull your head out of your ass and use those damn blades!” she shouted, ducking into the shadows.   
Three of the surviving guards opened fire into the darkness while the other two, coincidentally the same guards that frisked Urklyn, sought to eliminate him. The young man pushed backwards, the chair falling down with him in it. It hurt, but it was less painful than if the rounds that were fired at him hit their intended target. While they were reloading, he pulled out the karambits and charged. He attempted to stab one of them in the chest, but a simple backhand with the gun knocked the knife out of Urklyn’s hand. The other man circled behind and hit the teen in the head downing him. Dazed, but not out, Urklyn rolled to the side, slicing open the back of the bodyguard’s heel. The man screamed as he fell to one knee just as Urklyn kicked the second guard back before getting back to his feet. Urklyn wasted no time in slicing open the injured bodyguard’s throat, letting him gag on his blood as he began to bleed out. The second guard finally managed to reload his gun as the teen pushed the body of his dying comrade into him. The gun went off prematurely into the bleeding man, killing him instantly. The surviving bodyguard stood in horror of his actions, giving Urklyn the opportunity to cut open his throat as well.   
Kyler’s fight was going better than she had anticipated, given the abhorrent lack of cover in this warehouse. The shadows were her best friend, and another targeted bullet to the heart had ended one of the three men firing at her last estimated position. She ducked further down the building wall and reloaded quickly. She gave a quick glance at the men, watching one reload his gun. Oh, he's reloading? No. Dead. Upon the conclusion of her thought, a bullet was through his head, and his body crumpled. The last remaining man fired quickly, the bullet ricocheting above Kyler’s head and back toward his legs. One final gunshot from her had the final man collapsing in a pool of blood as well.   
Urklyn panted heavily as he stared at the corpses all around him. The stench was so strong, it gagged him. His ears picked up the sound of begging and screaming as more people died around him. Kenny, that damned psychopath, was having the time of his life while his father did nothing but watch. The young man’s eyes drifted down to his hands that were now covered in blood. He couldn’t look away until he regurgitated all the contents from lunch onto the floor as he collapsed to his knees. He was shaking so badly, an onlooker would think he was having a seizure.  
Kyler, meanwhile, having taken down all the bodyguards had taken off after Arnold. Checking her ammo and seeing she only had two rounds left, she holstered the gun and drew a kunai instead. The asshole hadn't gone far, leaning against the back wall of the warehouse and watching his bodyguards fight, twirling a long dagger in his hands. “You can't bother yourself to dirty your own hands. What a pragmatic nobleman,” Kyler said coldly.   
The man grinned. “I can dirty my own hands, but why bother when there's others to do it for me?” He lunged at her, aiming for Kyler’s throat. She countered with her kunai, swinging a leg up to hit him with a roundhouse kick. He stumbled slightly, slashing at her again, grazing her arm. She winced but didn't release her grip on the blade. The corporal kicked again, knocking him back more firmly. While the man was distracted, Kyler’s eyes flew over to Urklyn. Seeing him on his knees with no obvious reason for it, she shouted in concern. “Urklyn!”  
Hearing Kyler’s voice snapped Urklyn out of his daze, his eyes darting to the duel that was taking place. Arnold was so hellbent on killing the corporal that he seemed to consider the other occupant in the warehouse no threat. To show how much of a moron the man was, Urklyn grabbed the wooden chair and approached Arnold from behind as the nobleman went on a desperate offensive. Urklyn relished the moment in which he slammed the chair into the side of Arnold’s head, knocking him aside and shattering the furniture in the process.  
Kyler gave Urklyn a broad smile. “Nice going, kid. You did okay holding your own. Wasn't sure you had it in you.”  
Urklyn did not smile back as he stared down at the staggering nobleman. “What do we do with him? If anyone gets wind of what happened in here, our whole plan goes up into flames.”  
“You leave that to me.” Kyler turned to the nobleman, sliding his dagger away with her toe. “Good news, Arnold: you’re conscious enough for negotiations.”  
The man spat in her direction. “I've got nothing to say to the likes of you. You're just some skilled bitch who happened to be the backup to the filthy brat of a nobleman. Go to hell!”  
“You’ll beat me there if you keep that up,” she warned darkly. “But I suppose I’ll have to wait until you cut a deal with the Military Police.”  
Arnold scoffed. “What are you talking about? I would never make a deal with the Military Police.”  
“Maybe, but it makes for a good story.” She tossed her kunai up and down repeatedly. “The journalists in these Walls will eat that up and print that story without even fact-checking to make sure it’s legit. Granted, the story will be discovered to be false after the truth comes to light, but there are some people who will take it seriously like say… Kenny the Ripper.” An unsettling smirk appeared on her face. “You can imagine his reaction when his supplier is said to be selling him out, can’t you?”  
Arnold gulped hard, fighting to keep from pissing himself. “Y-you wouldn't dare…”  
“Is that so?” Kyler gestured to the corpses. “Ask your friends what they think. Go on. I’ll wait.”  
His eyes were wide and he hesitantly looked her in the eyes. “Who are you?” he asked fearfully.  
“It’s like you said: I’m the skilled bitch who’s going to make your life a living hell if you tell anyone the truth about Urklyn or that I was here,” Kyler threatened with a glare, leaning her face close to his. “Don’t cross me. I’ll know if you do, little man.”  
This time Arnold did actually piss his pants, nodding in terror. “Y-yes, ma'am.”  
Kyler, wrinkling her nose in disgust, turned to Urklyn. “Let’s go. I'm certain this place will be crawling in police shortly.”  
Urklyn nodded hesitantly and started making his way towards the exit.  
“W-Wait!” Arnold cried out suddenly. “How do I explain my bodyguards?”  
“That’s your problem. Don’t make it mine,” Kyler answered coldly, slamming the door behind her. She took Urklyn by the arm and started running into the nearest alley. “I know a place where I can fix you up.”  
\--------------------------  
“Ow! Take it easy,” Urklyn complained, moving his head away from the wet rag she was pressing none-too-gently on his injury.  
“I don’t have any painkillers on hand, so suck it up,” Kyler muttered, holding him still by the back of his collar.  
Urklyn was surprised that a place like this existed in the Interior. Broken windows, aged floorboards with some yanked open, and the moldy smell that filled the house. Only source of light was the moon shining in the sky. “What is this place?”  
“We raided this place a year ago in a drug bust,” Kyler explained. “There was enough coderoin in these floors to drug the entire government twice over. Makes a good hiding spot for people hiding from officers, don’t you think?”  
“What’s to keep them from checking up on this place since the Military Police know about it?” Urklyn asked curiously.   
“You’re right. There is an officer that’s supposed to make sure everything’s alright.” Kyler looked left and right. “Nope. I don’t see anything suspicious.”  
Urklyn burst out laughing. “It's you, isn't it? So that is why it's safe. Oh, hey, you're bleeding too.” His eyes landed on her arm.  
“Pay it no mind,” she told him. “I’ve gotta make sure you’re fixed up enough to keep up appearances. I can handle my own cover story. Here, hold this against your head while I wash out your karambits.”  
Urklyn took the rag and pressed it against his own head, wincing at the pain. “In case I haven't said so yet, thanks for coming to my rescue.”  
Kyler seemed to stiffen before turning on the faucet. “Don’t thank me, kid. I’m the one who almost got you killed today.”  
“What makes you say that?” Urklyn asked.  
“We arranged the meeting for you,” she explained as the blood began coming off the knives. “We should’ve screened Arnold more to be on the safe side. We’re lucky you survived, but next time, it could all end in the blink of an eye.” She shook her head and decided to change the subject. “I saw you vomiting. First time you killed someone?”  
Urklyn swallowed hard. “Yes, but it wasn't just that. I had flashbacks to something I was witness to a few years back,” he whispered. “It was a massacre.”  
The corporal bowed her head in sadness. She knew which massacre he was referring to. “No child should ever go through that. I’m sorry.”  
“Were you one of the ones to respond to the Garber estate?” he asked hesitantly.  
“It’s what started it all for me,” she admitted, leaving the blades out to dry. “I was a Private back then, so I was still trying to get acclimated in the ranks. I’ve seen dead people before, but walking into that house for the first time… you can’t look past it. A fire started in all of us that day. We would find the person or persons responsible and make them pay for it. One of the few times the corruption faded into the background for the sake of justice, but it didn’t last.”  
“I was there. I couldn't leave. I couldn’t move. I just heard screaming and people dying all around me. Those memories, the knowledge of who my father is and what he's capable of… that's why I'm fighting so hard to take him down.” Urklyn admitted, closing his eyes briefly then opening them to shake off the horrors.   
Kyler chuckled sadly. “I was one of the few that wanted to keep going, search high and low for the killer. I got a promotion, but not what I wanted the most. That’s when I met the Restorer.”  
Urklyn looked over at Kyler. “The Restorer? Who's that?”  
“Someone who’s name I won’t reveal until it’s the right time,” Kyler answered, bringing over his weapons and sheathing them. “I will say this person is the reason I have been part of this whole thing for a long time. I was given hope that there was a light at the end of this dark, dank tunnel. Otherwise, I would’ve called it quits years ago like everyone else has.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “One thing the Restorer taught me is that no matter how bad this world gets, no matter how much corruption infects everyone around me, there will always be someone to fight against it no matter the odds. Someone like you, Urklyn.”   
The young man averted his gaze from hers. “My father has been involved in so many horrible things, Kyler. I honestly don’t know if we can stop him.” Or my sister.  
“Well, we won’t stop him if we don’t give it our all,” she told him. “It’s risky, but living in this world is always risky.”  
The teen nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. “You’re right. We can't give up. No matter what.”  
Kyler allowed a small smile to grace her features. “You’re not as much of a pain in the ass as I thought you’d be.”  
“And you've got more of a heart than I thought you did,” Urklyn replied with a grin.   
“Damn, and I tried to hide it so well,” she chuckled. “Now, then, let’s talk about your cover story…”  
\----------------------------------

Urklyn closed the door softly behind him.He hadn’t meant for it to be nearly midnight by the time he made it home, but the cleanup with Kyler had taken more time than he anticipated, not to mention the travel time needed to head back to the estate. All there was left to do now was tiptoe up to bed without anyone noticing him.   
His eyes landed on the portrait that hung to the left of the entryway. Like all of the paintings in the house, it was of the goddess, Ymir Fritz. She wore a diamond circlet on her head, and purple robes with gold trim. She had her hands resting gracefully down around her waist, her face serene. A pair of handmaidens were in the background of the painting, adjusting the young Queen’s robes.  
Urklyn just stared at the painting, allowing his irritation to be seen for once. “Your ‘gift’ has done nothing but tear this family and our nation apart. What’s the point of it all?”  
As expected, there was no response from the painting. However, the same couldn’t be said for the person behind him.   
“Urklyn!”  
The teen recoiled hard and whirled around. There was his father standing outside his office with crossed arms and a stern demeanor.  
“Inside. Now.” As usual, Rod's voice left no room for argument.  
Plan B it is, then. Urklyn cautiously walked past his father as he entered the office. His heart skipped a beat when the door closed behind him.  
Rod stepped around his desk and took a seat, crossing his leg across the other knee, and watching his eldest son’s demeanor. “Mind telling me why you're just coming home when it's almost midnight?”  
Urklyn looked away, embarrassed to “come clean” about what happened. “I got mugged.”  
Rod raised an eyebrow. “Mugged? Where? How many were there?”  
“There were three of them, I think,” he lied, going over what Kyler had drilled into him. “I was walking out of a bar--.”  
“Which one?”  
“Pit Lidors,” Urklyn answered. “I wanted to get a drink. When I stepped outside, I was attacked.”  
“I see. So, how long have you been rehearsing this story?”  
The young man tried to hide his anxiety. “What are you talking about, Father?”  
“Cut the bullshit. I know a rehearsed story when I hear one, and you’ve never been good at lying to me. Tell me what really happened,” he replied harshly.  
Urklyn said the first thing that came to his mind. “It was Kenny, okay?”  
Rod uncrossed his leg and leaned forward in his seat. “Oh really? Let's just see if he will say the same thing,” he said, the door swinging open behind Urklyn at the same moment. The aforementioned man stepped into the room, taking his hat off, and brushing his hair away from his eyes.   
“Love the new look, Urkie,” Kenny greeted with that sickening grin. “So, you've been talking about me behind my back? That's not very nice.”  
Urklyn visibly flinched at seeing the man so close to him. He always felt like a child around the psychopath.  
Rod glanced from Urklyn to Kenny. “The boy claims he got injured out with you today. That true, Ackerman?”  
“Oh, is that so?” Kenny slapped Urklyn on the back of his head right in the wound. “Damn idiot can't keep his mouth shut.”  
Urklyn gave a muffled cry of pain, and could feel blood seeping into the bandage from the injury again.   
Rod nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Just make sure you're not keeping the boy out too late in the future, Kenny.”  
“Wouldn't want to anger the Missus now, do we?” Kenny hoisted the kid to his feet. “I'll put him down for you.”  
Urklyn protested quietly, “I'm 18, for gods’ sake. I don't need to be tucked in like a child!”  
“It's the least I can do after causing you so much pain today.” The freak of nature waved his farewell, taking his hat on the way out. Once they reached Urklyn's room, Kenny shut the door and slammed the teen against the wall, choking him. “You use me as a cover story again, and I will carve you up like a fucking turkey. Understand?” It was the angriest he had ever seen the man.  
Urklyn nodded quickly, fighting for breath, and feeling lightheaded from the loss of blood.  
“What's that, boy? Speak up,” he demanded, not letting up.  
“Yes, sir,” the teen croaked. “It won't happen again.”  
Satisfied, Kenny threw him against the wall, watching him slide to the floor. Then, he cracked a smile. “At least ask me first. Even men need to be asked for consent before you try fucking them over.”  
“Why didn't you sell me out to my father?” Urklyn asked, rubbing his throat. “You had every opportunity.”  
He knelt to his level. “Here's the thing, kid: you and I both despise that tub of lard. If you're making a play against him, then I'm really interested in seeing where it goes.” He patted him on the shoulder as he rose to full height. “Sleep tight, Urkie.” He closed the door again, leaving the younger man in darkness.  
Urklyn leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to survive the night, but the relief was quenched by the monster that rescued him. Urklyn was afraid of his father, but no one terrified him more than the sadistic murderer in his father’s employ.  
Kenny, I will find a way to kill you. Urklyn promised inwardly.  
For a moment, he thought he heard the man laughing at the idea he hadn’t voiced.


	13. The Plight of the Hidden Queen

Despite being one of the coldest of the regions within the Walls, Orvud was considered to be among the most desirable of the areas due to the lack of Titan activity. Outside the urban districts, much of the undeveloped land was left alone, considered to be unfit for farming. For this reason, there was a sense of calm and serenity, perfect for two budding lovers to spend some time together.  
Frieda gave a soft sigh of contentment as she nudged Estiel from a walk to a gentle canter. Beside her, Nate did the same with Seraphina, keeping easy pace with her. He flashed her a brief smile before pulling into the lead and guiding his filly down the path through the trees and shrubs. He slowed down to a walk after about two miles, guiding them along a narrow deer trail that few knew of. Frieda’s eyes floated over the thinning forest, and she took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, cool air. The trail gave way to a large meadow, accented by a waterfall that babbled softly from an unseen source into a sizable lake. The covering of trees and native plants gave the illusion of afternoon sun peeking through despite it being only late morning.   
Nate turned his filly to face her and pulled to a stop. “I thought we might have our lunch here, if that's alright with you.”  
Frieda nodded quickly. “It's beautiful. How did you find this place? It looks so untouched and perfect.”  
He grinned as he dismounted, looping the reins over a low hanging tree branch. “I ride every day, and I stumbled upon this trail several days ago. When I did, I had a feeling it would be great for us to spend some time together without interruption.”  
She slid off her mare, and tied off the reins beside his. “It's breathtaking out here.”  
“Not as much as you are,” he replied immediately, focusing his attention on his hands, pulling a blanket and a basket out of his saddlebags.   
The young queen blushed in spite of herself. “You were waiting for me to say something like that so you could compliment me!”  
“Guilty as charged,” he laughed, a red tinge on his own face. “But you can hardly blame a guy for trying, right?” He shook out the blanket and spread it a short distance from the lake. Kneeling, he removed from the basket a tray of baked, cinnamon pastries, each one carrying a different type of jam in them.  
“Pastries? You're trying to fatten me up, aren't you?” Frieda teased him.   
“Of course. Then I shall cook you on a spit and turn you into a gourmet feast,” he shot back.  
“But I have so much to live for! Alas, what a world. I shall have to savor my last moments,” she replied, feigning a dramatic aura with the back of her hand on her forehead.   
“Ever think about getting into theater?” Nate wondered as he took out two plates covered in wrap so she couldn’t see the contents.  
“No, too many drama queens for my tastes,” she paused before adding, “Besides, I've got my younger sister to thank for some of my theatricality. I'll let you guess which one.”  
“Abel.” The answer was overtly obvious.  
“You got it. She's got more drama and sarcasm than anyone else I've encountered. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it lands her in trouble,” Frieda explained.   
“From what I’ve been told, it’s a bit of both.” Nate removed the wrapping to reveal two sandwiches. The meat was that of a duck with lettuce, tomatoes and mayonnaise. It smelled as if it just came out of the furnace.  
Frieda inhaled deeply and gave a soft smile. “You've been investigating what my favorite foods are, haven't you?”   
“It helps when you have as many siblings as you do,” he replied, smiling back while handing her a plate. “Go ahead. Tell me what you think.”  
She took a bite and gave a hum of pleasant surprise. “It's very good,” she said after her mouth was clear. A question then occurred to her. “Speaking of my siblings, what's this I heard about Urklyn stealing your filly earlier this week?”  
He shook his head, bemused by that incident. “Came completely out of nowhere. I still don’t know why he did it, but I got her back safe and sound.”  
“So, how did he end up getting his hands on her in the first place? That's where I'm confused,” Frieda admitted. “I only overheard Dirk and Abel gossiping about it but never the how or why.”  
“Well, I ran into your brother in Stohess and I offered him a ride back,” Nate explained. “We had a nice chat, and then he stole my filly.”  
“Urklyn the Horse Thief. Never what I thought he'd be known for,” the young woman chuckled softly. “I'm glad that she was returned to you safely.”  
“Indeed.” His sandwich was still untouched. “Frieda, how do you feel about… all this?”  
She set down her own sandwich, chewing the bite in her mouth quickly. “The picnic? It's lovely. I consider myself quite fortunate to be able to spend the time with you today.”  
Nate looked taken aback. “You feel fortunate to be with me?”  
“Of course. What young lady wouldn't, keeping the company of a handsome young man, such as yourself?” She gave him a warm smile. “You seem surprised by this.”  
“Abel told me why you came to know me,” Nate admitted. “Your parents put this on your shoulders. At least, that’s what she told me.”  
“Abel told you?” Frieda's eyes widened. “Why would she do that?”  
“Out of love for you,” Nate answered. “She knew this was something you didn’t want, and she demanded that I treat you right or else I could say goodbye to my, and I quote, ‘two closest friends.’”  
Frieda covered her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “I'm gonna kill Abel for saying that.” She sobered and looked back at Nate. “It's true. Originally I didn't want to deal with all the suitors, and let me tell you, it was hellish. But you? You're different. You're sweet, not pretentious, and you were honest with me from the start. I greatly enjoy spending time with you.”  
Nate decided to go with his gut and took her hand into his. He lift it up and gave her hand a brief, but gentle, kiss. “And I enjoy your company as well, Frieda. I hope no matter what your parents have in store for us that this will never change.”  
Frieda felt another blush creeping up over her face. “My parents may have some say but ultimately, it's my choice who I spend time with. And you're my number one choice.”  
“Good to know I don’t have competition. Now then, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”  
She tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded, scooting to sit closer to him. Giving in temptation, she reached up and brushed his cheek with a soft kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”  
It was so tempting to kiss her on her luscious lips at this very moment. The picnic, the lake, the genuine emotions coming to life, it was all so perfect. However, Nate held himself back. The two hadn’t known each other long, and he didn’t want to push her. This was a day in which they could take their time and enjoy these moments together. He finally bit into his lukewarm sandwich, mentally complimenting the chef that made these treats.  
Their conversation ran into a brief lull with nothing but the sounds of the waterfall roaring in the background and the chewing of their food. Things seemed to finally slow down, allowing this time of quiet reflection. They would definitely return here as much as they could provided their duties and nobles didn’t get in the way. Then again, with Frieda’s duty gradually shifting into having children, this was already a duty.  
Once the food was gone, Nate put the trash back in the basket and rolled up the blanket, sliding both back into his filly’s saddlebags. “Now, then, I believe it’s a gentleman’s responsibility to escort the beautiful lady home.”  
Frieda giggled. “Why, thank you, good sir,” she replied, dipping in a shallow curtsey. “Would you care to assist me in mounting my lovely mare as well?” She pretended to have an uppity tone.  
He chuckled, lifting her up onto her horse. “There you go.” The man quickly hopped onto his filly. “Shall we race back to your home?”  
Frieda was never one to turn down a challenge and she grinned at him. “Think your filly can keep up?”  
“Let’s find out.” Nate didn’t even count and he was already taking off down the dirt path.  
Frieda gave a whoop of elation and had her mare flying down the trail behind him. Branches whipped across her face, giving her slight lacerations which she ignored. There was nothing like the freedom of riding horseback, and now with a good man who loved horses also, there was a new sense of adventure.   
Naturally, Seraphina could only go so fast before the well-bred Estiel easily overtook the poor filly. “You haven’t won yet!” Nate called out, trying to speed up his mount with little success.  
“Keep telling yourself that! Just don't push your sweet filly too hard.” Frieda laughed as she passed him on the left during a wide section of the path. Before Nate could reply, a deer jumped out of the thick brush in front of Estiel, spooking both mare and rider. Frieda screamed as her horse reared and flung her off, landing with a sickening crunch. Estiel attempted to bolt away, but her reins caught in the nearby brambles, halting her progress.  
“Frieda!” Nate yelled, pulling on the reins. Seraphina came to an abrupt halt and he leapt off, running to the woman’s aide. Her left arm was bent at an angle that it should never be in, and he could see blood and bone amidst the flesh. “Oh, my God,” he said as he knelt to her level. “Frieda, say something. Please!”   
Frieda winced, cursing softly. “Damn, stupid deer. I'll be alright.” Her eyes landed on the wound on her arm. “Shit. No wonder it hurts like hell.” Steam poured from the gash as the bone vanished and the skin sewed itself back together in a matter of moments.   
Nate recoiled, falling onto his backside. No human could regenerate like that. It was impossible, and yet, he had witnessed it in front of his very eyes. Not a single word escaped his lips, for what could he say?  
Frieda’s eyes met Nate’s. Oh, fuck! Quicker than he could blink, she lunged at him, attempting to pin him to the ground.  
“Get off me!” Nate shouted, trying to wrestle the woman off.  
Normally, a man of his size and build would be enough to push her off, but she had the one thing that would shock any man. Frieda grabbed him by the collar and pulled him right towards her face. Before he could even register what she was doing, she pressed her lips tightly against his. Nate’s eyes widened in shock at the aggressive affection he was receiving, and his faltering was exactly what she needed.  
Frieda placed her hands on both temples as she continued to kiss him, her eyes closed. You didn’t see anything! She thought desperately as she used the power of the Coordinate to rewrite his memories. You don’t know what I am!  
Nate writhed underneath her grip, making muffled noises that sounded like screams, but she refused to release him. The kiss felt unlike anything she had ever experienced before, and it was a beautiful feeling. She didn’t want to stop.   
Nate, you’re a wonderful man. She thought once more. I’m not ready to tell you now, but I promise I will. If this was what a kiss felt like, she could only imagine the bliss that went far beyond that. What things could Nate make her feel, make her say? She yearned for more of what he could offer her. Perhaps tonight, she could take things a--  
He stopped.  
Frieda pulled out from the kiss, panting heavily as she still straddled his chest. She could only imagine what his reaction would be to see them in such a position. She smiled down at him, so that could be the first thing he saw. Then, she took notice of his eyes, the dark green that were staring right at her. They didn’t blink, frozen in that state of shock he was in when she kissed him. Out of the corners of his eyes, a thin trail of red dripped down his face.   
Her smile vanished, replaced by a mirrored expression of horror. “Nate? Nate!” she screamed, shaking him and finding him completely unresponsive. He just continued to stare up at her with lifeless eyes. She pressed her ear to his chest and her eyes widened with her discovery. There was no beating. No movement of his breathing.   
He was dead, and she killed him. She had gone too far and wiped his mind entirely.  
Frieda wept loudly, clutching his body. “WHY?!” she screamed. “I was falling in love with him!” Tears flowed freely down her face and over his chest. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his still-warm cheeks. “I loved him…”  
Her very first kiss was Nathaniel’s last. 

\--------------------

The siblings had been sent away from the house so Frieda’s parents could be alone with their daughter. Greta held her gently, whispering how everything was going to be okay, and that it wasn’t her fault. Rod, on the other hand, was deep in thought as he developed a cover-up for Nate’s death. After all, this was his specialty.  
“Broken necks from horseback riding are uncommon, but they still happen,” Rod said after a long moment. “The Fleischer family will be none the wiser.” He stood up and approached his eldest daughter. “I am so sorry this happened, Frieda. You did not deserve this.”  
Frieda was curled in the fetal position on the couch, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “He's dead. I killed him. I only meant to hide what I am until...” She gave a sniff. “None of it matters now.”  
Greta held her tighter. “Oh, sweetie, I wish there was something we could say to help you.”  
Frieda pushed her away, standing to her feet. “You can't help me. Just leave me alone.” With that, she left the room and headed upstairs to the safe haven of her bedroom. She locked the door behind her and threw herself on the bed, continuing to weep.  
How often had she used her power to wipe minds? It was almost second-nature to her, a survival instinct, especially when she was with Historia. She had kissed her little sister like her mother was supposed to, so why was this different? Was it because she loved him?  
A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door. “Frieda? It’s Urklyn. Can we talk?”  
“What is there to talk about? Just go away.” The reply came immediately.   
“But Frieda--.”  
“JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!” she yelled, throwing a pillow at the door.   
The retreating footsteps made it clear Urklyn would do as she said.  
Frieda buried her face into her hands, slowly running out of tears to cry. Holy inheritance? Nothing more than a curse. It cost me the lives’ of my people and now my boyfriend as well!  
Everything will be okay.   
How can everyone keep saying that? I lost my fucking boyfriend!  
Well… there’s always next time. You just need a little more time.


	14. Humanity's Struggle

Another year, another “humanitarian crisis.” Gee, nothing’s changed. You’d think by now that they’d have something better in place for taking care of the refugees. Dirk’s eyes skimmed the lines of people coming to get their food rations. The teen had recently turned 16, triggering his father’s attention to turn back to him. Rod had the brilliant idea that as a noble family, their children should be seen working in charity or humanitarian work once they had come of age. So, here he was, handing out food rations alongside Wall Worshippers and those there to keep the peace.   
Of course, when Wall Worshippers were involved, peace was never really an option.  
“This is but a taste of the wrathful vengeance of the Lord!” one of the priests shouted, his voice grating on everyone’s eardrums. “Defiling the Walls will bring humanity to ruin and--.”  
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself, not realizing his voice carried.  
“You dare to curse about our sacred Walls!?” The priest was enraged at the very thought.   
“No, I curse your lack of basic intelligence,” Dirk shot back without missing a beat. He was already gaining the attention of the locals, who were watching these two like a thrilling scene in a play.  
“A curse upon you and your family! No good shall befall those who dare speak ill of the Walls!” the priest warned solemnly.  
The teen raised his eyebrow at the man. “Um, I only bad-mouthed you, Priest. Are you feeling alright? Perhaps you need an escort to the Disabled Zone.”  
The priest’s face turned a deep shade of purple as he seethed with indignation. “How dare you! I shall have you removed from the area at once! Where is your superior? I demand to speak to him right this very instant!”  
“Whoops! The instant passed. Too late.” Dirk cracked a grin. “But hey, you made yourself useful. You made these fine people laugh. Let’s have a round of applause for Priest… I’m gonna call you Fred. Priest Fred, everybody!”  
By this point, a large crowd had gathered around to listen to the banter between the teenager and the aged priest. The group roared with laughter at Dirk’s quip about the instant, cheering and clapping for the newly dubbed “Priest Fred.”  
Said priest huffed and shook his staff at the teen. “You have no respect! None for your elders, none for the divine! I hope you burn in hell for your lack of proper respect.”  
“You want that respect, Fred?” Dirk shoved a basket of bread into his hand. “Shut up and start helping people like a real man. Oh, by the way...” He leaned in and whispered, “My name is Dirk Reiss.”   
The priest’s countenance immediately changed, his face going from purple to ashen. “R-Reiss?” He gulped audibly. “My apologies, good sir. I take back everything that I said.” He ducked his head and went around the corner with the basket, nearly running to flee from the crowd.   
Contrary to his personality, Dirk wasn’t a fan of dropping his last name as a way of getting what he wanted. However, the expression on the oaf’s face was worth every second. He turned back to the crowd and they started going back to their business. He placed another basket of bread on the ground as he knelt in front of a blond, blue-eyed girl that seemed slightly older than Florian. “Hi, what’s your name?” he greeted with his trademark grin.  
“Annie,” came the expressionless response. She opened her hand for the food he was holding. She didn’t seem to be especially talkative.  
“Name’s Dirk,” he said, giving her a small loaf of bread. “What, for your sick brother? Here, take another one.” Dirk added another loaf to her collection.   
Her eyes widened in slight surprise. “Thanks. It was pretty funny the way you put that idiot in his place,” She looked up at him with a small smile that quickly faded back to her neutral expression. “I wish more people could make those windbags stop running their mouths.”  
Frieda, I’ve got a royal decree for you. Dirk thought as he chuckled. “Laughter takes away their power. The more people laugh, the less seriously others will take them.” He playfully ruffled her hair. “Take care of yourself, okay?”  
“Don’t have much choice now, do I?” came the response before the short blond vanished into the crowds again.   
As Dirk straightened, a voice hissed in his ear. “You can’t keep giving the kids extra food. Every loaf you give away as extra is starving another person.” Dirk’s eyes met those of a Garrison Captain, the last name of Gabrela stitched across the front of his uniform.   
The teen let out a sigh, staring at the other kids. “I can’t help it, you know? I just want a chance to give them something to smile about.”  
Captain Gabrela gave a slight huff as he turned away. “I’ll pretend that I didn’t see anything. Just make sure that nobody else does either, or you’ll be in for a harsher talking-to than this.”  
Dirk nodded before taking a leave from the area. It was best to distance himself before he inadvertently caused another food shortage. Unfortunately, wherever he walked, there was some sort of issue going on. Garrison soldiers complaining about giving up their food to the brats (their words, not his), other Wall Worshippers who thought preaching about the wrath of God was a brilliant idea, and more than a few scuffles over how much food someone could take. Fortunately, none of the fights escalated to the riot in Krolva a year ago… at least, not yet.  
Even with twenty percent of population gone, this is still going on. Dirk thought grimly.  
A harsh slap on the back knocked the thoughts out of him and nearly sent him stumbling. The teen spun around to see a blond-haired boy a couple years younger than him, though his build was unnaturally fit for a guy his age. How can a guy younger than me be taller than me?  
“Nice job taking care of ‘Fred,’” Blond Boy commented with a grin.  
“Just doing my civic duty for the people,” Dirk replied, shaking his hand. “Name’s Dirk.”  
“Reiner. You seem like an alright guy.”  
“Great! Can you come over to my house and tell my family that?” Dirk requested jokingly.  
Reiner laughed. “Name the time and place.”  
“Reiner, we should get going,” a mild voice said behind him. It belonged to a black-haired individual that was taller than Reiner.  
Reiner rolled his eyes, gesturing to the newcomer. “Nursemaid over here is Bertholdt. He worries too much.”  
Dirk just nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. I’m always gonna be short, aren’t I?  
“See you around, kid,” Blond Boy said as he departed.  
That did it. “I’m older than you!” Dirk shouted, his face turning red with embarrassment and frustration. He threw his hands in frustration before heading back to the food stand. Much to his annoyance. Captain Gabriella, or whatever the hell his name was, repeated the same lecture: one loaf per person no matter what kind of sob story was given to him.  
He lasted two minutes.  
“Come on, Captain, she counts as two people,” Dirk protested, indicating a very pregnant woman that was trying to get bread.  
“And how do you know she didn’t stuff a pillow down her shirt?” Gabby shot back, crossing his arms.  
“I, uh…” Dirk didn’t know how to answer that. She could be conning him for all he knew.  
“Tell her to lift her shirt,” the captain suggested seriously.   
Dirk’s eyes widened in horror, waving his hands back and forth quickly before the woman could call them perverts. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no! That will not be necessary!”  
Said woman chuckled. “It's no trouble. This is my third child. I've nothing to hide.” She lifted her tunic enough to show the captain and Dirk the swollen belly with a protruding belly button. “That satisfy you boys? Now if you don't mind hurrying this along, I've got two other hungry boys waiting at home for me.”   
The captain rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Just give her the damn bread, kid. And watch yourself.”  
The teen’s eyes blinked several times at the strange sight in front of him. “That’s a… big stomach.” His voice was an octave higher than usual.  
Gabby facepalmed, letting out a growl of frustration.  
She laughed, covering her belly once more and outstretching her hand. “Won't be long now. You take care of yourself, young man,” she said in a motherly tone.   
“Yeah, uh, you too, lady,” he replied, handing her the loaves of bread.  
“You are testing the limits of my patience, kid,” the unfriendly captain stated once the woman was gone. “You cause trouble one more time, and I don’t care who you’re the son of, I will kick your ass onto the street faster than you can blink.” He gestured to the refugees. “You think any of them have time for your jester antics or you gawking at a pregnant broad? One loaf per person, or you’re done!”  
Dirk gulped audibly. Despite his stupid name, “Gabriel” could be intimidating when he wanted to be. He shook off the incident and came face-to-face with a green-eyed kid. “Hi, I’m--.”  
“No talking. Hand him the bread.”  
He sighed, giving the boy the loaf without another word.  
“‘Hi, I'm a spoiled brat from the Interior, and I don't give a shit about the refugees except how they make my family look better.’” The boy scowled at Dirk, snatching the bread from his hand.   
“Hi, Spoiled Brat. I’m Dirk.” He couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t help it.  
A pair of arms on either side of the kid physically restrained him from taking a swing at Dirk. “Eren! Now is not the time for this. Just take the bread and we can go,” the blond boy on his left pleaded.  
Dirk, however, found his eyes locking onto the other child. There was something about her appearance that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He shook it off and added two loaves to the pile. “I hope this is enough for you three.”  
Eren spat at his feet. “Noble pig. All of you are the same, faking compassion--”  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m the spawn of the devil. Can you just take the damn bread?” Dirk asked, his own patience wearing thin. It was less about the kid’s attitude and more on the fact he couldn’t verbally roast him on the spot. Not to mention how two people in less than five minutes brought up his noble status, something he was desperately trying to hide.  
“Eren, that's enough. Just take the bread, please,” the raven-haired girl said gently.   
“Mikasa, just look at him! He oozes of being a spoiled rich kid. Bet he's never tasted the agony of losing family to Titans. All you nobility are the same! Sacrifice the outer Walls to save your own fat, lazy asses! I hope you all burn!” Eren raged.  
Dirk winced. He knew that disgusting tragedy Eren was referring to all too well. None of those people deserved to die like that. He felt sympathy for the kids and guilt from his status, how couldn’t truly relate to them because of his bloodline. On the other hand, the kid was an asshole. So, he looked to his right and yelled, “Priest Fred, I found your long-lost son!”  
Eren’s eyes flew to the Wall Worshipper. “You dare compare me to that religious scum? I'll kill you myself!” Seeing red, he shook his arm free from the blond’s grasp and punched Dirk in the face.  
Dirk’s head whipped backwards from the sudden blow before he brought it down. There was some blood on his lip now. His smile was frozen. “Feel better?”  
An enraged roar was the only answer he got, the kid swinging at him again.  
Dirk easily caught the swing and used the momentum to toss him into a nearby stack of empty baskets. “Word of advice: angry people are stupid people.”  
By this time, a crowd had gathered around the area yet again to watch the tousle between the two boys. There were some mixed claps and cheers in response to Dirk’s advice.  
Eren staggered to his feet, running at him with his fists raised, but at the last second, he swung his boot up and kicked the teen hard between his legs.   
The teen’s body seized, his eyes bulging out. The crowd, most of the men, grimaced at the low blow that was landed on him. Sinking to his knees, Dirk looked up at the idiot who struck him, all pretenses vanishing to the winds. “Like I said; stupid.” He shot up and punched Eren so hard blood flew out of his mouth. Eren staggered back from the severe blow, but Dirk shoved him to the ground, locking his arm behind his back.  
“Guys! Cut it out! You're going to get us all in trouble,” the blond boy cried from the edge of the crowd.   
A blur flashed out of the corner of Dirk’s eyes, then pain shot through his kidney and back, causing him to recoil in agony and crumple to the ground. The black-haired girl shoved past him and pulled Eren to his feet, shielding his body with her own. “Leave him alone,” she said coldly.   
“He started it,” Dirk retorted, clutching himself in pain.   
“That’s it!” The teen was grabbed by his collar and dragged away from the fight. “I warned you, you little shit.”  
Dirk could only watch as a couple more Garrison soldiers apprehended the girl and the dumbass. The blond seemed to be trying to reason with them, but his words were falling on deaf ears. He couldn’t ponder this further as he felt a boot hit him right in his backside and sent him crashing against a trash can.  
“Get out of here and go home!” the captain shouted as he went back to his post.  
“Up yours, Private Gabby!” Dirk writhed in pain, but he still managed to give him the finger. No one spared the teen more than a glance as they walked past him. Apparently, all those from the Interior were scumbags. He didn’t bother wasting his breath calling for help as he struggled to stand. For a girl her size and age, she packed a wallop nearly as hard as Kenny did.   
Running footsteps caught his attention as he turned his head to the right. Another girl, though this one was different. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with concern and her blonde hair seemed to reflect the rays of the sun. That was not normal. Kinda weird, actually.  
“Oh my god, are you okay?” she asked, crouching down by his side. “What happened?”  
“I got beat up by twelve-year olds,” Dirk answered, annoyed. “I won’t hear the end of this.” He managed to get to his hands and knees before nearly collapsing. “Gah, son of a b---basket-weaving, clunky degenerate.” Might as well keep the girl’s innocence in one respect. Least he could do.  
She giggled at his word choice. “I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as you thought. Where are you hurt? Is there anything I can help with?”  
“Not unless you have a first-aid kit and healing abilities.” Damn you, Frieda. Learn to share!  
“No healing abilities but I always carry some bandages with me in case I encounter anyone who might need my help,” she replied, pulling out a rolled bandage from her shoulder bag. “Where does it hurt?” she asked again.  
“Just below the shoulder blades here.” Dirk indicated the spot as best he could. “Name’s Dirk. What’s yours?”   
“Krista. Glad to meet you, Dirk.” She hesitated for a moment. “Would you mind lifting your shirt so I can wrap it around your chest? It'll only take a moment, I promise.” Her cheeks flushed slightly with the question.   
“Alright.” Dirk removed his shirt, though he kept his back to her. “Be careful. It’s still swollen, though it’s a less strange sight than… never mind.”  
Krista giggled again. “I'm sure that's quite an interesting story. But I'll be careful,” she promised, unrolling the bandage and snugly securing it around the injury, earning a wince from the teen. “I'm sorry that I don't have anything to give you for the pain,” she trailed off, stepping back.   
“Don’t worry about it,” Dirk assured, putting back on his shirt. “Thanks for your help, Krista. I can take it from…” It was his turn to trail off as he stared at the girl. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?”  
She cocked her head to the side, studying his face. “I don't think so. Why do you ask?”  
“You ever look at someone and think you’ve met them before?” he wondered. “Can’t help but think you look familiar.” He shook his head as he slowly started to stand. “Sorry. That got really weird.”  
She gave a soft laugh. “Well, there's a first time for everything. I think I would remember a name like ‘Dirk’.” She smiled at him. “You going to be okay?”  
“Don’t worry about me. I can manage.” He playfully ruffled her hair. “Stay out of the sun. You’re gonna blind someone with that reflection.”  
“Awww, but the sun is so nice and warm,” she fake pouted. “Take care of yourself, Dirk.”   
“You, too, kid.”   
Dirk headed in the direction of his carriage, grimacing as pain shot up his back. It was slightly less now, but not by much. However, as he looked around, his injury started to pale in comparison. People of all ages were sitting on the streets with rags for clothes. Mothers trying to soothe their crying infants and lull them to sleep in this hellish environment. The stench of human excrement was pretty severe in some cases, making him watch his step.  
He couldn’t understand why this was happening.  
A year ago, 20 percent of the population was sent out into Wall Maria territory. That should’ve given the survivors more room to have homes and have food, yet this was still happening. What was the point of exiling all those people if it did little to change the circumstances? More importantly, why wasn’t Frieda doing a damn thing about this.  
When I get home, Big Sister, you and I are gonna talk. He inwardly swore as the carriage got into view. He gave a brief wave to the driver and put a hand on the door handle before stopping. Wasn’t the driver supposed to be a brunet, not a black-haired guy? Curiously, he glanced over at the man to get a better look when he heard running footsteps. He turned around just in time to meet a club that bashed into his skull.


	15. Rage of the Titan

“Wake up, shitstain.”  
Dirk felt the hard backhand of a glove hit his face, rousing him from his unconscious state. His vision was quite blurry, unable to see clear shapes, but he felt his arms outstretched and pinned against something. Probably a wall. He let out a harsh cough and asked, “What the hell is going on?”  
A hand clasped around his chin and raised his head up to meet the blue-eyed stare of a person wearing a black covering over his head. “It was stupid for a noble child to come into Wall Rose territory. Consider this your punishment.”  
Dirk let out a dark chuckle. “This is punishment? My father could do better than you.”  
“I do not doubt the Reiss patriarch could come up with something more debilitating.”  
The mirth vanished from the teen’s expression and in its place a look of horror. “How--how did you--?”  
“The captain was very generous with his words,” the lead kidnapper explained. Dirk could feel the smirk oozing off this guy. “Going on about ‘that damn Reiss brat.’ Then again, your actions did you no favors. A brat such as you causing such trouble and commotion? Clearly had to be someone with high friends to get away with it.”  
Dirk hung his head, though it was hard given it was still being held up by the man. “So, what’s your plan? Extortion?”  
“Extortion is such a negative word,” the man commented. “I prefer to call it a simple negotiation, an incentive for cooperation. I give you back to your father, and he gives me what I want.”  
He glared at him. “Joke’s on you. I’m the black sheep of the family. They couldn’t care less what happens to me.”  
“We’ll see. A way to prove a father’s love or lack thereof is with the proper motivation.” He snapped his fingers and another masked man approached. “See, we could just send a message to him with our requests, but words are just that: words. What a man like Reiss needs is resolve.”   
Dirk recoiled when he saw a karambit come into view. His brother’s karambit.  
“Now, let’s see… what should we cut off to start with?” The man trailed the weapon over the boy’s face. “Perhaps an ear? No, many people do that. Your tongue?” He shook his head. “The boss wouldn’t want the fun all gone at the start.”  
“Boss? What--?”  
The man slashed his cheek, leaving a shallow, but bleeding, cut. “Quiet! I’m thinking.” He drummed his fingers on the hilt for a moment. “Not original, but we can make it work. Tell me, boy: what finger do you cherish the least?”  
Gasping, Dirk struggled violently against the chains that held him, but it was no use. He could do nothing as his left hand was forced open, all five fingers at the ready. His panic sought to overtake him.  
“Choose quickly before I choose for you,” he warned, bringing the karambit closer.  
Knowing that there was no way out of this, there was only one choice. “I’ve got a finger for you.” He brought four of his fingers down, leaving the middle one aimed high. “Take it, and shove it up your ass, you piece of shit!”  
The knife came down, slicing into flesh and bone. It took three, long seconds for the finger to come off, but it was a success. All that remained was a stump that was gushing blood. Dirk screamed as he writhed against the pain, finding no relief.  
“Bandage the wound,” the lead kidnapper ordered as he brought the severed appendage to the sink. “If he dies of blood loss, we’re all dead.”   
“I’ll kill you!” the teen raged. “You hear me? I’ll fucking--!”  
“God, your voice is annoying. Hit him again.”  
Dirk was immediately silenced when the club brought him back into the darkness, leaving the pair of kidnappers to wrap up the stump in peace. 

\-------------------------------------

Rod let out an exasperated sigh as he stood up from his chair. “Frieda, please reconsider your decision.”  
She shook her head. “Six months hasn't diminished the pain of losing him, Father. I'm not ready to see a new suitor yet.”  
“One day, you are going to need to move past this, my daughter,” he told her. “If not for your sake, but for the sake of your duty.”  
You know he’s right. After all, you chose this path when you offered yourself to the holy inheritance.  
Responding to both her father and the confounded voice in her head that she wished she could ignore, she spoke with a frustrated tone. “All I'm asking for is some time to properly grieve. I have hardly forgotten my duty.”  
“Then act like it, Frieda,” Rod said sternly. “Starting tomorrow, you resume your studies with myself or your mother. No excuses. Is that clear?”  
“Yes, Father. I won't--” a knock on the door interrupted her sentence.   
“Enter,” Rod commanded.   
A maid opened the study door, dropping into a curtsy. “My lord, there is a man here to see you. He says that he carries a package for your hands only.”  
“We will discuss this later.” He followed the maid out towards the front door where, although he didn’t show it, he was surprised to see Captain Gabrela standing with a small box in hand. Frieda followed, but hung back several paces, allowing her father to handle the interaction.   
“Lord Reiss,” the captain greeted with a nod of his head.  
Rod’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see my son with you. Where is he?”  
“A man instructed me to give this to you so you could have your answer.” Gabrela handed over the package.  
There was so much Rod wanted to say at that moment, his fears bubbling to the surface and threatening to become known. He needed to open the box to discover the truth. Slowly, he took off the lid and what was inside made his eyes widen in horror. A severed finger lay inside with a manicured nail clearly belonging to someone of nobility. However, the clincher was a name that was carved onto the appendage itself: DIRK.   
Frieda peeked over his shoulder, her curiosity as to the contents of the box getting the best of her. She gasped sharply, her hand coming up to her face as she fought the urge to vomit. Anger overtook the initial shock. Someone had her brother, had mutilated him, and for that, they would pay!  
Rod seemed to get a headstart on that, for he put the box down and grabbed the captain by his collar, flinging him onto the staircase. “I gave you one. Simple. Task,” he growled, shutting the door behind him. “Make sure to keep my son safe. What the hell happened that allowed you to walk away unscathed?”  
The captain crawled backwards, frightened of the man’s rage. “He--he blew his own cover! Sauntered around like a noble child, talked down to the priests, and even started a fight with one of the refugees.”   
“Dirk may be a smartass, but he's not stupid. I'm sure that he would never intentionally reveal his identity while within Wall Rose,” Frieda crossed her arms and looked with disdain on the man. “You didn't handle things properly.”  
“I tried to,” he protested, “but the boy wouldn’t listen to a damn thing I said. I had to send him back home.”  
“You sent him home?” A simple question from Rod made the air get substantially colder. “Tell me, Captain, how exactly did you send him home? Did you walk him back to his carriage? Did you provide an escort in the event you were otherwise preoccupied?”  
Gabrela gulped, seemingly shrinking onto himself. “I--I--” His lack of ability to respond spoke volumes.  
Frieda's icy tone cut in again. “What did you do to him?”  
“I had nothing to do with the kidnapping! I swear on my father’s life!” He was panicking now. “I had to focus on my job. I had to kick him out to--!”  
In a blind rage, Frieda grabbed the pistol from her father’s belt and fired a single round into the captain’s head, silencing him. “Wrong answer, you damn bastard!” Tears flowed down her face as she lowered the gun with a shaking hand.  
Rod sighed and slowly took the gun back. “Frieda… he could’ve led us to where he got the box.”   
Greta came running to the top of the stairs, her eyes falling on the body and blood pooling on the stairs. “What is going on, Rod?” Abel and Florian appeared behind her a moment later, the two recoiling at the sight of the body on the stairs. Urklyn came up behind Rod and spotted the box. Before he could utter a single word, Rod grabbed everyone’s attention.  
“Dirk has been kidnapped,” he said quietly. “Urklyn, hand me the note that’s inside.”  
Florian gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth. “Dirk? Kidnapped?”  
“Where is he?” Abel demanded, her voice on the verge of breaking.  
“Rod, please tell me he’s still alive,” Greta begged with tears running down her face.  
“Quiet!” Rod’s shout sent them all into silence. “Urklyn, the note. Now.”  
Without saying a word, the eldest brother handed him the bloodstained paper, opening it for him.  
“Greetings, Lord Reiss. I hope you enjoyed the little present I sent you,” it read. “I’m going to make this very simple: if you want the rest of your son, you will pay his weight in gold. With his height, I’ll say 130 pounds. You have two days to acquire the merchandise. Fail, and I will send you pieces of your son daily. Imagine what you’ll find next. On Friday at noon, come to the marketplace in Trost alone. I will give you further instructions should you get that far. Don’t try anything stupid, or I will send you your son’s head and feed the rest to the Titans.  
“Have a pleasant day. :)”   
It took all of Rod’s willpower not to fly into a red haze of rage. These bastards dared to not only take his child but demand a ransom from him? They had no idea who they were dealing with, the lengths he would go to get his son back. His eyes shot to his wife. “Greta, take Florian and Abel back to their rooms, and get a maid to clean up this mess. Frieda, Urklyn, come with me.” He didn’t wait for a response as he stalked onto the back porch. “Kenny!”  
The bodyguard, lying down on a chaise lounge, tipped his hat to his employer with a single eye open. “Heard a gunshot in there. Someone forget to wipe their feet?”  
“I have no time for your bullshit,” Rod snarled, all proper decorum lost. “Dirk has been kidnapped.”  
Instantly, Kenny shot to his feet, having an expression that was foreign on his face: concern. “Shit! Is the kid okay?”  
“They sent us his finger,” Urklyn answered tersely. “You tell us.”  
Kenny checked his ammo to make sure he had enough to storm a building. “Any leads?”  
Rod threw him an annoyed look. “Would we come to you if there was?”  
“Hey, cut me some slack. I’m usually the guy you come to when you want to kill or interrogate someone.” He holstered his guns. “I’ve got a few contacts in Wall Rose. Shouldn’t take too long.”  
“And if you get caught?” Urklyn asked. “After all, you’re a wanted man.”  
“Why, Urklyn, is that concern for me I hear?” the man drawled with a smirk.  
“You’re the only lead we’ve got to Dirk,” Urklyn explained, glaring at him.   
Kenny chuckled. “Believe it or not, I can be discreet.”  
Frieda broke her silence. “I’m going with him. I have to rescue Dirk.”  
“Frieda, it’s not safe for you out there,” Rod shot back instantly. “I know you’re worried for your brother. I am, too, but I have to rely on Kenny to get him back. Adding you to the equation may cause unforeseen problems.”  
“Or she could fix a few,” Kenny suggested. “Come on. A pretty noble wandering the streets of Trost? They’ll focus on her and leave me open for my part.”  
“I’m probably going to Hell for this, but he has a point,” Urklyn reluctantly agreed. “If Kenny wasn’t a wanted man, I’d be on your side, Father, but as it stands, we need every advantage we can get.”  
Rod pressed his fingers to his temples, heaving a sigh, before he stared daggers at his bodyguard. “If anything happens to my daughter, I will cut your head off.”  
Kenny threw his head back laughing. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Rod. You can count on me.”  
“Urklyn, do what you can for Abel and Florian,” Rod commanded. “I need to see to my wife.” Satisfied the situation was handled, he headed back inside.  
“Yes, Father.” The eldest brother gave Frieda a tight hug. “I don’t know if the Goddess has ever been on our side, but please, bring Dirk home.”  
“I won’t return until he’s with me,” she vowed. “They won’t live long enough to keep him.”  
Kenny cleared his throat. “I’m gonna need the package they sent. That’ll give me the information I need on where to start.”  
Urklyn nodded and returned swiftly to the storage chest that Rod placed the package on, bringing it back to the waiting pair. “You know more about weapons than I do, Kenny. Can you tell what caused the cuts?”  
Kenny plucked the finger out of the box and examined it closely. “These weren’t simple slashes. They dug into the finger to write the name. It’s a thin blade.” He turned the appendage over to the socket, squinting. “Hmm… it was sawed off. From the looks of it, they used the same blade.” He paused for a second as a thought occurred to him. “Urklyn, did you give Dirk your karambit?”  
“Yeah, I did,” he answered. “I gave it to him so he could protect himself.”  
“A lot of good that did him,” Kenny muttered. “We’re looking for people with a twisted sense of humor and irony. Probably why they used the poor kid’s weapon against him like this.”  
“Sounds like the type of people that you would get along swimmingly with,” Frieda said in a deadpan. “Please tell me that means that you know where to look for him.”  
“I have a few ideas.” He put on his trademark hat. “Come on, Your Highness. Your public awaits.”  
Dirk, hang in there. I'm coming. Frieda thought as she followed Kenny out the door.  
\-------------------------  
A throbbing in his left hand caused Dirk to return to consciousness. His head swam as he felt very faint. He could thank the blood loss from his missing finger for that. Speaking of, he glanced at the hand and noticed it wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, though he had nothing to ease the pain he was feeling.  
“Well, about time.” One of the kidnappers approached Dirk with a glass of water in his hand. “Thirsty?”   
Instinctively, teen started to open his mouth to welcome the liquid that would soothe his sore throat.  
Instead, the man spat on his face. “Drink up, noble brat.”  
Dirk shook off the saliva and gazed up at his grinning tormentor. ‘“Noble brat?’ Seriously? That's the best you can do? Come on, there's pompous prick, insufferable ingrate, belligerent bastard--”  
The kidnapper's smile fell off his face as he stalked towards his hostage. “You trying to be funny, Reiss?”  
With a smirk, Dirk spit into his cup of water now that it was close enough. “Just wanted to return the favor.”  
The man's response was to smash the glass cup right into his temple in a fit of rage. “Fucking dick,” he snarled, satisfied that blood and water were running down the kid's face.  
Dirk looked up with one of his eyes half-closed thanks to the assault, but he still smirked. “There you go. You can be creative.”  
“Enough, Leonard,” the head kidnapper ordered. “You keep that up, and we'll lose our leverage.”  
“Sorry, Lenny,” Dirk taunted. “You get to be in timeout and think about what you've done.”   
Lenny, as Dirk would call him, growled like a bulldog before heading to the table so he could check his weapons. The teen made a mental reminder to have a vet check him. Perhaps neutered for good measure. He betted that his uncle would enjoy performing the procedure.

\-----------------------

Naturally, Uncle Kenny decided to talk with his contact alone in a house that’s been decaying for the past five years. Abandoned house on the verge of completely collapsing, wretched smell of mold, rat feces, and dead rats, and on the edge of Trost District just a block away from the Wall? Perfect place for Kenny’s vacation home and, of course, interrogating people.  
Frieda pasted on her “public” smile. Damn Kenny and his diversion plan. She was to spend the time making a donation to the people of Trost while he was with his contact. “Show the lovely citizens of this poor district how much a noble young woman such as yourself really cares about the less fortunate,” he had sneered.   
She rounded the corner to where the food lines were and her smile nearly slipped. The stench alone was putrid and revolting, and she was thankful that she had worn a dress that struck above her ankles so only her boots would touch the filthy streets. She strode purposefully to where a pair of military-uniformed men were conversing to the left of the lines. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the man in charge? I was told to find a Captain... Gabriela?” Her words dripped with saccharin sweetness.  
The taller of the two, a gruff-looking man with a scraggly beard and dark eyes looked her up and down. “Captain Gabrela has the day off. You’re looking for Captain Voight. He’s over there, by the Wall,” the man gestured vaguely.   
The second man chuckled. “Aren’t you in the wrong Wall, sweetheart?”  
Her smile almost shattered by his smell alone. How much alcohol could one consume? “Thank you for pointing me in the right direction. Good day.” She turned to briskly walk away from this revolting place.  
A hand grabbed her by the wrist. “Why you leaving in such a hurry? Walt and I can show you a good time while you’re here.” The second guy leered at her suggestively.  
“Damon, let her go,” Walt ordered, pulling him back. “Go sober up.”  
Damon lunged (more like stumbled) at Frieda, his eyes closing. “Just need a kiss from a pretty girl to sober me up.”  
Frieda easily sidestepped his drunken advance, and wrenched his left arm behind his back, hearing a snap as she bent his wrist further than it was supposed to go. “Not interested in a drunken sot like you. Find someone else when you’re sober.” She left him to curl around his broken wrist.  
Walt shook his head. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. He won’t get away with that inappropriate behavior ever again.” He hoisted the crying, pathetic man to his feet. “Sorry, Damon.”  
Frieda didn’t have a single ounce of sympathy for that kind of slime. Wastes of space with only a bottle that could ever love them. However, as she approached the area in which the captain was, she spotted a familiar face in an alley, tipping his hat to her. Seemed like Kenny finished up sooner than expected. Part of her felt compelled to see the donation through like the original plan, but her brother’s life was at stake. None of these downtrodden fools could ever compare, so she turned and rapidly walked back to the carriage. 

\---------------------

Now that he was awake, the teen examined his surroundings. First, he counted the men. There were six of them inside, though a couple of silhouettes in the windows indicated more. No chance of overpowering the kidnappers even if he wasn't chained up. There was dusty, moldy scent in the air, making it clear this cabin hadn't been attended to for a while. Judging by the couch in front of him and the table on the other side where most of the kidnappers congregated, he was being held in the living room. Stone walls decorated the surroundings. Perfect in case a firefight broke out. These guys would be well-protected.  
The leader caught his attention by sitting on the couch in front of him. “You're a feisty one, aren't you, Dirk?”  
“What can I say? It's all part of my charm,” Dirk replied, attempting to shrug despite the limitations on the chains.  
He chuckled. “I know a facade when I see one, kid. You're scared shitless, aren't you?”  
He didn't give him a chance to respond. “This isn't my first kidnapping, you know. I've seen it all: smartass morons, the weeping beggars, and the angry mutes. You're nothing special.”  
“The difference is: this may be your last kidnapping. My father doesn't tend to allow those who hurt his family to live,” Dirk replied, the joking tone gone.   
The kidnapper rolled his eyes. “Gee. Never heard that one before. In your case, you'd probably be right. That's why we're prepared. We know the rumors of your father, how no one can cross him and live. Congratulations, Dirk Reiss. You have a small army keeping you company.”  
“Yeah, you should've amassed an actual army.”  
“And back to the smartass remarks,” the man muttered.  
Dirk stared directly into the brown eyes of his kidnapper. “You say you've seen it all. Buddy, you missed one category in that list: the ones who know that you're completely screwed and are going to enjoy watching all of you die.”  
The leader leaned close to his face. “You give your father too much credit.”  
“You broke the one golden rule in this country: never underestimate the Reiss family.”

\--------------------------------------------------

The sun had fallen into the horizon at about a halfway point, giving the illusion of burning clouds above them. Fortunately, the clouds were behind Kenny as he stared into the small spyglass. From on top of a large hill, he could see the vast forest and, hopefully, he’d be able to spot the house that Dirk was being held in. “Back up, Your Highness. Your anticipation is distracting me.’  
She shot him a dark look. “Who knows what hell they are putting my brother through right now. Time is of the essence, wouldn’t you say?”  
He lowered the equipment, glancing over his shoulder. “Alright, Frieda. Do you know where Dirk is being held and how many kidnappers there are? Perhaps your otherworldly powers spoke to you about armaments and defenses in a dream.”  
She silently seethed, but she took the unspoken hint and stayed quiet.  
“I know you’re worried about the kid,” Kenny admitted as he continued scanning the area. “Running around like a lost dog ain’t gonna help him. It’ll just make you an easy target.”  
“How reliable is this contact that you spoke to? I’m afraid that he might send us on a wild goose chase as a diversion while they--” She cut herself off, refusing to voice the worst fear she had.  
“Guy’s a nosy little rat and his intel is usually good. Just to be on the safe side, I threatened to cut off his hands, chain him to a table, and burn his house with him inside if he wasn’t truthful,” Kenny assured before freezing as he stared northwest of their position. “There! I think I see it. Stone cabin well-hidden in the forest, but there’s a dead tree a bit south from the cabin.” He pocketed the spyglass. “Can’t see how many guys we’re going up against. We’ll have to take a closer look first.”  
She fought the urge to just storm down the hill, nodding in agreement. “Sounds wise. Let's do it hastily then.”  
He rolled his eyes and slid down the mound. “God, can’t you talk like a normal human being?”  
“Oh, you mean like a crass asshole like you does?” She fired back, sliding down behind him. “Forgive me, but I've got a reputation to uphold, one of dignity and grace.”  
“Right, because that’s exactly what I think of when I hear the name ‘Reiss,’” Kenny replied. “Bunch of upstanding do-gooders, right?”  
“That's what the public needs to see. And that's what they shall from me,” she said, purposefully ignoring what he might say regarding the Titan form.   
Kenny scoffed. “Spoken like your old man. Hope you don’t trip over your high horse like he always does.”  
“You mean like he did with Alma? And what a fall from grace that was,” she said, giving a look of utter disgust. “I won’t make the same mistakes my father has.”  
“And how’s that working out for you?” Kenny stopped once the cabin was in view and crouched behind bushes. “Get down.”  
She knelt beside him, her eyes darting toward the cabin. “Two men outside that I can see from here. Does your glass show how many are inside?”  
He peered through it, gazing at the windows. “More than one. That’s for sure. Can’t give you an exact without a better angle. Unfortunately, we’ll get spotted.” He slowly pulled out his guns. “Well, unfortunately for you.”  
“Then let’s give them an entrance they won’t be expecting,” Frieda gave a dark chuckle, pulling out her dagger. “I can act as the large, distraction, shall we say?”  
Kenny grinned at her quite unsettlingly. “I knew there was something I liked about you. Save some for me if you can.”  
“I make no promises. These dicks kidnapped my baby brother. They deserve to be quaking in fear during their final moments,” her smile was nothing short of disturbing and sadistic as she plunged the dagger’s blade into the edge of her finger.  
She closed her eyes in concentration, the flash that normally came from the transforming being absorbed into her body, making the overall transition slower by a few seconds. This was a few seconds she would gladly spend as it meant hiding the blinding light that would reveal to all that there was a Titan Shifter within the Walls. Flesh engulfed her form rather rapidly, and she knelt by the dead tree until she was certain the transformation was complete. She grinned as she stood and stalked her way over to the cabin, eyes locking onto the pair of men guarding the doors.   
“It’s a fucking Titan!” one of the men screamed, shooting his rifle at her.  
One shot was all that he and his companion were able to fire before Frieda’s massive hands gripped them, crushing their rib cages and casting them aside as if they were nothing more than small insects.  
Satisfied that the guards were out of the way, she used both of her hands and gripped the edges of the wooden roof over the cabin, and gave a light tug. The support beams cracked instantly, and she glanced at Kenny to make sure he was out of harm’s way before tossing it behind the cabin with a loud crash. Now she could see them all. Like cockroaches, the half dozen kidnappers scattered, their terror overruling the ransom they wanted to receive. The two guards that ran east were easily picked off by Kenny’s pistols. There were four left, and there would be no refuge for them.  
Frieda easily caught two of the four kidnappers that fled, one in each hand. She couldn’t help but give an evil grin as she brought them up close to her face, then beheaded one with a pinch of her fingers, and crushed the second man similarly when he began to scream in terror. Dropping their bloody remains, she glanced to see where the remaining two had gone. Another fired round took one of the missing men out. She nearly chuckled when she spotted the last one darting into the trees. So, the little mouse wants to hide? She thought darkly as she took large strides towards the forest. She watched as this pathetic piece of shit tumbled down a hill, crashing into a small creek. A single Titan step brought Frieda right to him.   
“Help! Someone help!” the man screamed as he backed away from her.  
Hearing those begs brought a snarl to Freida’s face. She could only imagine if Dirk had said those same things as they mutilated him. There would be no mercy. She tossed him into the air like a ragdoll, and batting him down hard, headfirst into the unyielding ground. The man landed with a sickening crunch and laid still. To ensure his kill, she slammed her foot onto his body, grinding it into dirt. Bits and pieces of the body landed in the creek, floating downstream. She could only imagine the reaction of anyone who discovered the gore. Satisfied that all of the men were killed, she strode back to the cabin where an impressed Kenny waited for her.   
“Damn. Those were some nice kills,” he commented, letting out a whistle of approval.   
Frieda ignored him, focusing on her little brother. She knelt closer to his level and whispered sorrowfully, “Dirk,” upon seeing his condition.  
Crude, blood-stained bandages were wrapped around his left hand that were in dire need of replacement. Dried up blood rested on his face that was bruised to the point that his right eye was half-closed. Slowly, he looked up at her and asked, “Frieda?”  
It took all her composure not to break down right then and there. “I’m here.” Instantly, she snapped the chains that bound her brother and carefully lowered him to the ground.   
Dirk glanced up at his towering sister, ready to pass out once more. “What… What took you so long?” Despite his joking comment, anyone could see relieved tears streaming down his face.  
With a grimace, Frieda pulled herself free of the Titan form, slightly sickened by the bloodstains still on the Titan’s hands as it evaporated away. She ran over and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank the Goddess you’re safe, Dirk. I was so worried.”  
Weakly, he managed to hug her back before slumping in her arms. He was finally able to rest peacefully after all this time.  
“Get him out of here,” Kenny ordered once he stepped inside. “I’ll clean up before any of the locals catch wind of this.”  
She nodded at him, helping Dirk up so she could walk him back. “Thank you, Kenny.”  
His smile contained a very unfamiliar wave of assurance directed at him. “Any time, kid.”  
Frieda heaved a sigh of relief. She had rescued her brother. He was safe from harm again. It had meant the bloodshed and deaths of others, but she would do anything to protect her family, like she always did.


	16. The Rising Conspiracy

There weren’t many things that could thaw the heart of Rod Reiss, but seeing his youngest son, his flesh and blood, lying on the bed with a missing finger and a mutilated body tore him pieces. In fact, he couldn’t look at Dirk more than a few seconds before he felt tears filling up his eyes. His wife wasn’t much better. She had worn herself out many nights sobbing over their child’s injuries. For now, she was finally resting, safe from the realities of the world until she opened her eyes.  
Footsteps coming down the stairs peaked his interest, though his eyes remained on his sleeping boy. “You’d better have a damn good reason for leaving,” he growled, knowing exactly who it was.  
Urklyn let out a sigh and replied, “Father, it’s been a week. You know as well as I do that life doesn’t stop. I scheduled a meeting with a few nobles in Orvud. I’ll be taking notes and give you whatever updates they have. I promise.”  
Slowly, Rod turned to his eldest son. It wasn’t often people got to see the patriarch of the family worn-out, but Urklyn was getting that privilege. ‘“Life doesn’t stop.’ If I recall, I taught you that years ago.”  
“It’s a lesson I haven’t forgotten,” the teenager assured.  
“I should be out there taking care of this family,” he went on, self-depreciation evident in his voice. “I should be.”  
Urklyn took a couple of steps forward, his height easily dwarfing his father’s. “It’s not your fault, Father.” He was almost tempted to give him a hug, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, even now. He tightened the straps that held his pack together and began walking away.  
“Don’t let Aurille get the better of you,” Rod warned before he was out of earshot. “That slime may try to use my absence to his advantage.”  
“I won’t give him the chance.” Urklyn left the house, leaving his family behind again.  
Years of living within these Walls gave Rod an extra sense of caution. Many would call it paranoia, but he was still alive. He gazed out the window and watched Urklyn enter a carriage, allowing it to take him away. How many times has the boy left in recent weeks? Something wasn’t adding up, and he couldn’t figure out what.  
“Is everything alright, Father?” Frieda came down the stairs from her room with a book in hand. She had taken a short rest herself and was again ready to join the vigil over Dirk.  
“I’ll be gone for a while,” Rod said curtly, putting on his coat and hat. “Take care of your mother if she wakes before I get back.”  
“As you wish, Father,” the young queen took the seat that he vacated by her brother’s bedside and cracked open the novel.  
Whatever vulnerabilities Rod exhibited earlier had vanished, leaving behind the stony man everyone knew him as. Urklyn was up to something, and he would find out what by any means necessary.

\------------------------------------------------

Nonchalance. That was the attitude Urklyn strove for as he climbed into a carriage, leaving the meeting in Orvud and heading into Stohess. Kyler had asked for another meeting, and he was determined to make sure that he stayed in her good graces. The teen had kept his focus on his family for the first few days, declining her first request that came merely two days after the rescue. He couldn’t afford to put her off any longer.  
He came to a stop a few blocks from the meeting point and waved the driver off. He really needed to be careful this time. Any more injuries or delays would raise his father's suspicions further. Hopefully, this won't end with another killing spree. He thought grimly as he walked the streets. He kept his head down so no one would recognize him, and so far, it seemed to be working.  
He came upon two houses with a sizeable alley between them. After making sure he wasn't followed, he entered the gap. The morning sun had not risen enough to illuminate the corridor yet.  
Sure enough, Kyler stepped out from her hiding spot behind a dumpster. Her stern visage was replaced with a sorrowful expression when she caught sight of the teenager. “I heard about what happened to your brother. How's he doing?”  
Urklyn shook his head. “He can’t sleep without waking up screaming. His hand throbs despite the painkillers that the physician gave him, and his joking tendencies have all but vanished.”  
“Knew a few officers who were tortured like that. Some were able to bounce back. Others…” She let out a sigh. “Just help him keep his head up. That's what he needs.”  
The teen nodded. “He’s hardly ever left alone. Frieda and Abel are with him most often. Abel seems determined to bring his spirits up. It works sometimes, but doesn’t last for long.”  
“It'll take time.” Kyler shook it off. “Anyways, we have other things to focus on right now.” To his surprise, she opened the side door on the right house. “Go inside.”  
Urklyn did as he was told. The house was a large, single story with an open layout. The door the pair walked in through opened into a spacious sitting area, with a kitchen off to the left. To the right, the main entrance to the house could be seen, and a hallway that presumably led to the bedrooms. The interior was decorated in soft shades of gray and light blue, the exterior of the house a darker shade of gray. Urklyn’s mouth fell open when he saw the man seated on the couch.  
“Urklyn Reiss, it's been a while,” Mikkel Haus greeted with a warm smile..  
“Lord Haus, pleasure to see you again,” the boy replied with a small bow, quickly remembering his manners. “Is this your home?”  
“Actually, it's mine.” A younger man in his late twenties stepped out of the kitchen with hor d'oeuvres on a tray. He had short, wavy black hair and sharp brown eyes, short stubble denoting an attempt at a beard. “I'm one of Lord Haus's servants, and this is my home.” He placed the tray on the table in front of the couch. “Please, eat.”  
Urklyn crossed the room and sat on the opposite side of Mikkel, taking one of the small pastries. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister…”  
The man chuckled. “Just call me Alder. The name’s Alder Wainwright.”  
“Sneaking nobles into a servant's house,” Kyler muttered dryly as she kept watch. “Now I've seen everything.”  
Mikkel put his hand on the boy's shoulder. “I am deeply sorry for what happened to your brother. No one should ever suffer through that.”  
Urklyn awkwardly nodded. “Thank you. We are all just glad that he’s home safely now.”  
The nobleman nodded as munched on a carrot stick. “Things have been quite difficult for you lately. Then again, perhaps being a Reiss is a difficulty in it of itself.”  
“Perhaps. It has its moments, just like being a noble does,” Urklyn refused to admit anything further. “So, might I ask what you’re doing here, Lord Haus?”  
“Same reason you're here: to bring down your father and restore order to the Walls.”  
“We've had bits and pieces on Rod's crimes, but we were never able to connect them to the bastard,” Kyler added. “Thanks to you, we're closer now than ever before.”  
“With his bodyguard limited, thanks to being a very wanted man, the two of us were able to move a bit more freely and gather information.” Mikkel withdrew a letter from his jacket pocket. “In here is a list Kyler and I compiled as best we could on those of the Military Police and nobles loyal to Rod. Unsurprisingly, Aurille is on the list.”  
“Unfortunately, Nile’s not,” the corporal said with barely-concealed annoyance. “He’s just a jackass superior of mine.”  
“So, this is what we need to take my father down?” Urklyn asked hopefully.  
Mikkel shook his head. “No, but it’s a step closer. We need to build up our own forces to have a chance. Even if we prove your father’s crimes, it could escalate into a civil war. That’s not an option… for now.”  
Urklyn didn’t like those last two words, but he kept quiet as they went on.  
Kyler took it from there. “With the Restorer working tirelessly to build up her contacts--”  
Her! So, the Restorer was a woman. He had a feeling Kyler didn’t notice the slip.  
“--it won’t be much longer before we have a fighting chance, especially after you deliver the letter.”  
Urklyn’s eyes widened. “Wait, me?”  
Mikkel chuckled. “What? Did you think you’d partake in free food and a massive update on the situation without being put to work? My, my, Urklyn. You’re turning into a noble brat.”  
A comedian you are not, Lord Haus. Urklyn rolled his eyes, feeling safe to do so in casual company. “Why can’t either of you deliver the letter?”  
“Do you know how hard it was for either of us to get out of the public eye at the same time?” Kyler asked with a look. “Right now, I’ve got Nile breathing down my neck on some cases, including Kenny’s, and Mikkel’s got his own set of responsibilities.  
Urklyn gave a defeated sigh. “Where’s the meet this time? It’s getting harder to get into some of the outlying regions without being questioned.”  
“Now you know how we feel,” Kyler responded. “Look, kid, you’ve got balls for sticking your neck out this long, and you’re lucky you haven’t been caught, but right now, you’re our best chance to get that letter to our contact.”  
“So, I don’t get to meet the Restorer, then.” It wasn’t a question.  
“Right now, she’s going to remain anonymous for everyone’s safety,” Mikkel explained. “The man you’ll be meeting has no visible ties to us, so if he gets caught, he’ll burn the letter before he’s apprehended.”  
“And what if I get caught?” That possibility always lingered over Urklyn’s head every time he did something for these people.  
“You won’t,” Kyler assured. “Not if you follow our instructions.”  
“That’s not good enough, Kyler,” he shot back, glaring at her. “You all know that this could go south easily, so what’s my cover story if I get caught?”  
“It’s a love letter,” Mikkel answered simply. “I’m certain the MPs won’t interfere with a noble trying to win the heart of a lovely lady.”  
Urklyn looked away for a moment. MPs weren’t his only concern. Kenny’s words still echoed in his mind. The man was a wild card, and he knew something was up.  
“What’s wrong?” Kyler noticed his change of demeanor instantly.  
Instinct demanded Urklyn to tell them about Kenny, but his tongue held. Here they were, on the brink of making a serious stride against Rod and if he told them, Kyler and Mikkel would decide to go underground for their protection and they would never have the same chances as before. Life was all about taking risks, so he needed to suck it up and take one. “Who am I looking for?” he asked, taking the letter.

\------------------------

Something was up. Florian couldn’t put her finger on what, though, after she closed the curtains. Urklyn wasn’t usually one to let anything take priority over family unless it was vital. But what could take priority over Dirk’s recovery? If he had found himself a girlfriend, surely the young woman would acknowledge that his brother had been ill, and thus, family time was much needed. At least, that would be the case with most young women. So, then...  
“Everything okay, Florian?” Frieda looked up from her book. She’d been seated by Dirk’s bedside for the last several hours, helping keep her younger brother relaxed until he finally fell into a fitful sleep. Abel was curled up at the foot of Dirk’s bed, an open book under her arm, unwilling to leave her brother’s side for very long. A soft snore came from both of the middle siblings, making for a touching sight to any observer.  
Florian pasted on a smile. “Of course. I just need to stretch my legs. I think I’ll take a short walk. I’ll be back shortly.”  
Satisfied, Frieda nodded and went back to her book without another word.  
The baby of the family headed into the hallway, closing the door silently behind her. Treading lightly down the stairs, she slipped out the back door and headed toward the stables, her thoughts swirling.  
She didn’t notice the person in front of the barn door until she ran headfirst into his chest. “Easy, Flo. Don’t want you getting a nasty black eye from running into a door,” Kenny drawled, tipping his hat to the girl.  
“Hi, Uncle Kenny,” Florian greeted, looking up with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sorry I ran into you.”  
He put a hand on her shoulder, pulling the girl back to arm’s length. “Whoa, now. I’d expect that clumsiness out of Abel and shrimp-boy, not from you. What’s troubling you, kiddo?”  
Florian shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. Just worried about some stuff.”  
Kenny chuckled, dropping his hand. “Why don’t you come and tell Uncle Kenny all about it? I’ve told that I make a pretty damn good listener.” He gave her a wink, and gestured toward the lounge chairs, several hundred yards away.  
The girl sighed but headed that way anyway, dropping into a seat on one of the chairs. The Reiss’ bodyguard sat heavily in the one beside her and took his hat off, running his hand through his hair. “Alright, Flo, what’s got you so distracted?”  
Florian hesitated for a moment and then began. “Well, it’s mostly about Urklyn.”  
“Uh oh, what’s the kid gotten into now?” Kenny gave a laugh that had a slight dark edge to it. “Let me guess: he got a whiff of codeine and now he’s as high as your dad’s ego.”  
The preteen wasn’t in the mood for jokes, concern thick in her voice. “Well, that’s just it. I don’t know. Even before the… stuff with Dirk, he seemed to be gone a lot. I know he’s been spending some time with Father, and with Frieda, but there are times that he leaves after Father has left and when Frieda is still here. And it seems to be at odd hours and it’s becoming far more frequent,” she paused, her head in her hands. “It’s like he’s so focused on whatever it is that he’s ignoring us. Or if he’s with the family for dinner, he’s there physically but his mind isn’t.”  
Kenny listened then added a comment. “Sounds to me like he’s found himself a girl.” He smirked. “About damn time, I would say.”  
Florian shook her head. “That’s what I thought at first too, but it doesn’t make sense. He would never put a girlfriend ahead of his family, and yet he left today, after making an excuse about ‘getting too restless’.”  
She didn’t pay attention to the grin that was getting wider by the second on Kenny. “Really? Were there other times he gave a bullsh--crap excuse to leave?”  
Florian nodded. “A few times. I once saw him sneak into the house when he thought no one was watching.”  
“Interesting. Tell me about it.” 

\---------------------------------------------

Blue jacket, brown fedora. Where the hell is he? Urklyn took a seat on the bench as he scanned his surroundings, using a newspaper as a cover to look less suspicious. He spent the last thirty minutes wandering around the Ehrmich District, looking for a guy with that description, yet he couldn’t find him. An outfit like that, the man would stand out.  
Urklyn wasn’t the type to give up on something as important as this, but if the man was a no-show, something went wrong. He couldn’t take any chances, so he calmly stood up and walked two miles to his carriage. Leaving the carriage so far away ensured the drivers wouldn’t tell his father exactly where he’s been. All they would know is that he enjoyed his long walks, nothing more. Even when he was in the carriage on the way home, he didn’t dare pull out the letter. Caution was the key to all this.  
He stared out the window and watched the sun set. Any self-respecting human would’ve taken the time to enjoy this day. He couldn’t remember the last time he did something like that. So focused on his mission, he let things pass by. Perhaps tomorrow, if the weather allowed it, he would take time to relax and shoot the breeze.  
When the sun dipped below the Wall, leaving a reddish glow, he finally got back to his home. He stepped outside the carriage and immediately stiffened. His father was standing in front of the door with a cold, ruthless expression he hadn’t seen directed at him in a very long time. Next to the man was Kenny, leaning against his home and flashing him the smuggest grin he had ever seen.  
“Get back in the carriage,” Rod ordered. “Accompany him, Kenny.”  
“You’ve got it, boss.”  
Urklyn could not hide his fear from Rod. “Dad, what--what’s going--?”  
“You will be silent until I speak to you,” his father interrupted.  
The teen swallowed hard and did as he was told, a shiver running down his spine. Did his father figure it out? That was the only explanation to all this. His terror skyrocketed when Kenny whispered in his ear.  
“You fucked up, kid.”


	17. The Usurper Exposed

Darkness had fully fallen by the time the carriage came to a stop. Kenny’s occasional snicker was the only sound to be heard during the lengthy time, which further unsettled Urklyn. His mind went back and forth between racing, trying to figure out what he had missed, and being numb from the horror of knowing that regardless of how it had occurred, he was now caught by the two people he had fought so desperately to hide his mission from.  
The carriage door opened, and to no surprise, they were outside the family’s farmstead. Rather than leading him into the cottage as expected, Rod silently led his eldest son to one of the nearby barns. Kenny trailed behind the teen, ensuring that he didn’t try anything stupid, like running. The man had his guns on hand to ensure it.  
Rod opened the back door of the barn, escorting Urklyn into the tack room first, efficiently blocking off any escape or view into the rest of the structure. “Sit down.” There was that tone again, the one that threatened death for those who disobeyed.  
Gulping, Urklyn took a seat in the only chair in the room. Kenny came behind him and tied his wrists to the back of the chair, preventing him from even dreaming of a way out.  
“Why?” The simple question was enough to have Urklyn shaking in his boots.  
The teen knew exactly what his father was talking about. The second he confessed, his life was over, eldest son or not. So, he did the only thing he could do in a situation like this: deny and question. “Father, I don’t know what you’re--.”  
“Cut the bullshit. Why?” Rod asked again, his tone harder than ever.  
“I don’t understand!” Urklyn responded, leaning back in his chair to get further away from him. “What’s this about?”  
Rod gave a silent look at Kenny, a signal that the man smirked at.  
The bodyguard’s fist shot out and slammed into Urklyn’s cheek, leaving a sizable bruise. “Respect your elders, brat, and answer the damn question.”  
The teen spat out some blood to the side. Injuries from Kenny were nothing new, but to have them received under orders from Rod was… demeaning. It angered him. “If you want to hurt me, Father, do it yourself,” he dared to say.  
Another look from Rod to Kenny had his cheek stinging from a second blow. “I will not tolerate your insolence. I know what you’ve been up to. Tell me why.”  
“Do. It. Yourself.” If Urklyn was going to be smacked around, he wasn’t about to let his father be a coward and make someone else do it.  
A swift kick from his father’s boot hit him between the legs, effectively silencing the teen momentarily. He grabbed the arms of the chair, leaning close enough to be nose-to-nose with him. “Answer the fucking question! Now!”  
Pained tears streamed down his face as he gasped for breath, but he managed to pull it together. The look Rod was giving him; it was the same he gave after he murdered Lord Garber all those years ago. Cold and ruthless. “Does Mother know this is happening?”  
“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” Rod growled, backhanding him hard. “You can’t hide from me, Urklyn. Not anymore.” He grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. “All those times you left the household and coming back at odd hours, I should’ve suspected something long ago, but I didn’t. You were my son. How could I suspect you, of all people, were making a power play against me?”  
Urklyn’s eyes widened, horrified. “Father, how could you… I love you. I could never betray you!” The words were all lies, but the fear was painfully real.  
“Okay, this is getting old,” Kenny muttered. “Let’s just bring him in and get it over with.”  
Releasing the boy, Rod silently nodded to the bodyguard. “Go get him.”  
“Wain, get your ass in here!” Kenny ordered.  
In any other circumstance, Urklyn would have found this situation funny, but not today, especially when Alder, the servant of Mikkel walked through the door with a smug grin on his face.  
“Hello again, Urklyn,” the man greeted. “Did you enjoy the hors d'oeuvres?”  
Eyes and ears all over the Walls. Urklyn was a fool not to consider that Alder would be playing both sides. Hearsay was gone. Now, there was a testimony against him from a reliable source. Rod’s source. “You son of a bitch,” he growled.  
Alder snorted and looked at Rod. “The welp come clean for you yet?” he sneered at the teen.  
“Not yet, but I’m sure that your presence alone should give him reason enough to share what we need to hear momentarily,” Rod replied.  
Urklyn, however, was brought to silence. No pleas, protests, or confessions. He just stared at the ground, fuming with rage. Then, a thought occurred to him: if Alder turned him in, then that meant...  
“I think it’s time we play a game together.” Kenny grabbed Urklyn’s chair and dragged him into the room Alder came out of. “All right, boys and girls, it’s time for my favorite game: Talk or Die.”  
Alder and Rod followed, the former looking quite smug.  
As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, Urklyn saw tied and gagged to separate chairs Kyler and Mikkel, both having bruises all over their faces. Mikkel had quite the broken nose and Kyler had a knife wound across her forehead.  
“Ungag them, Kenny,” Rod ordered.  
“Of course, sire,” he mocked as he ripped off the gags, allowing the two to cough for breath. “Here’s how this game goes: I pull out my gun and point it at one of you.” He aimed at Mikkel. “If you don’t talk, or you say something useless like, ‘I’ll kill you,’ or ‘Please, spare me…’” He pointed down and shot the noble’s foot.  
The old man screamed in agony as the front of his shoe and two toes were reduced to a bloody mess.   
“Consider that your first warning,” Kenny said as he ignored the man’s screams. “Now, who goes first? Is it the beautiful lady over here?” He licked his lips suggestively.   
Kyler seethed in anger but held her tongue, unwilling to risk a bullet for the sake of the insufferable pig.  
“Well, little Urkie, you’re up.”  
Urklyn hid it as well as he could, but he was petrified. After all this time working to bring his father down, years of planning and fighting, it was all going to end with a round in his head. He knew Kenny and Rod well enough to know they were all screwed. He closed his eyes as he felt the barrel press against his skull. He said a silent prayer to Ymir as he waited for the inevitable.  
Then, inspiration hit him. The perks of keeping his mouth shut gave him the opportunities to control the situation. Of course, his father knew that, hence why he, for the most part, stayed quiet and vague. The revealing of Alder, however, gave Urklyn one, single chance to escape. He was not going to die tonight.  
Urklyn let out a chuckle. “Holy shit, Alder. You have the biggest balls of everyone here.”  
The smirk that had graced Alder’s face the entire time since Urklyn had laid eyes on him vanished instantly. “What the hell are you talking about?”  
“A power play. That’s what you were aiming for, and I was too stupid to see it,” he replied. “I mean, what could get you in the good graces of my father better than ‘proving’ one of his children was conspiring against him?”  
Alder narrowed his eyes at the teen. “What are you insinuating, kid? I work for fucking Mikkel Haus. I’ve got a sizeable house within the Walls. I’ve got all that I could want! I’m just doing my civil duty in assisting to keep the peace amongst the nobility. Surely you of all people can understand that.”  
“Except you don’t have the one thing every noble wants: respect. To have the respect of the Reiss family is more valuable than gold, women, or anything within these Walls. You get that respect, and your family is set for life. Not a bad plan if you ask me, but you forgot something.” Urklyn glared daggers at the servant. “I was never on their side in the first place.”  
Mikkel’s mouth fell open, and a strangled gasp came from Kyler at the comment.   
Urklyn refused to look at them. He couldn’t. Not now. He didn’t want to die.  
“Then how do you explain your recent behavior?” Rod asked sternly.   
“I knew you were looking for the people responsible for giving up the identity of my sister,” Urklyn explained. “Ever since that day, you’ve been so busy going through person after person to find the truth. I decided to go at it a much different way. The eldest, overlooked son of the Reiss family looking to usurp his own father? What a piece of meat that was for the corporal.” He gave her a smug grin as his soul continued to die. “Is that why you were never promoted, Kyler? For walking into traps like a fool?”  
Kyler’s eyes blazed with righteous fury, shaking in her chair. “You fucking prick! You were in on it from the start and you’re selling us out!? I’ll rip your fucking--!”  
Kenny backhanded her. “Shut up, bitch. We’re enjoying the story.”  
Her head reeled back as blood appeared on her split lips. She looked hurt, but it wasn’t from the attack.  
“And what about the location of Kenny’s warehouse and supplier? How the hell do you explain that?” Alder spat angrily.  
“Why are you so upset, Alder? I’m not a traitor. We’re all on the same side.”  
“Like fucking hell you are. You’re trying to make me take the fall for your bullshit!” The man seethed. “And it’s not going to work!”  
“You were mistaken, Alder,” Urklyn responded simply. “You thought I was on their side. The fact that I fooled one of my father’s allies is… actually, kind of cool.” He looked at Rod. “I couldn’t give them fake information, Father. I needed to give them something big to get me into the fold, like Kenny. He’s the most-wanted man in the Walls.”  
“It’s a good pick-up line for ladies,” Kenny added. “Most wanted. I like it.”  
Kyler looked disgusted and more than slightly nauseated at that.  
“If you were supposedly undercover, why didn’t you tell me that?” Rod asked Urklyn. “I could have helped with your cover if you had gotten into any kind of trouble.”  
Urklyn gave a scoff. “Since when? You took me to a shooting when I was fifteen and told me to suck it up. Besides, if I told you I was doing this, you would’ve taken the reins from me in a heartbeat because you think I’m incapable.” He let his anger boil over as his voice rose to shouts. “You gave Frieda the inheritance over me because you didn’t trust me, because I was too weak! Am I weak now, Father!? Huh!?”  
Rod looked coldly at Urklyn. “So, you did all this to prove yourself? Give me evidence that you’re telling the truth, and we shall see.”  
“You have none,” Alder added, his slimy personality making a comeback. “It’s all just words.”  
“Servant, hold your tongue. The grown-ups are talking.” Urklyn glanced over at Kenny. “Left jacket pocket. There should be a letter.”  
With the gentleness of a tick, Kenny yanked the envelope out and handed it to Rod.  
“Those are all the names of your supporters that I was supposed to deliver to the Restorer’s contact,” Urklyn explained. “The man was a no-show, but I do know this: the Restorer is a woman. Kyler let that slip.”  
Kyler and Mikkel exchanged a brief look of despair. The evidence was rapidly stacking against their favor.  
“Go ahead and open it,” Urklyn said. “Those names should narrow down the possibilities of who the Restorer is. I got much closer than anyone, but Alder blew the entire operation.”  
Rod slid a finger under the edge of the envelope flap, loosening the seal and tugging the letter free.  
Alder, on the other hand, took this quite well. “You had one fucking job, kid. To deliver the fucking letter. And you couldn’t even manage that, now could you? I should have expected nothing less from a noble brat like you!” Fury and hatred laced his tone, and he chuckled, as if going mad from the turn of events.  
“You really were out for power and respect, Alder. I prove that I was on your side, and you lose it like a dog with rabies.” Urklyn shook his head before asking his father, “Is that everything you need, Father?”  
The more Rod’s eyes read each word on the letter, the more they narrowed. He had enough then pocketed the letter. “Not quite. You’re going to finish what you started. Kenny, untie Urklyn.”  
“I certainly enjoy these bonding moments, don’t you?” he chuckled as he cut the boy loose.  
Urklyn rubbed his wrists now that he was free. There was only one future for the three outliers in the room, and he knew exactly what his father would want. “First things first, Father. Do we still need Alder?”   
Alder’s eyes widened, knowing full well what that question meant for him. Falling to his knees, he did the only thing a pathetic man in his situation could: plead for his life. “No! Please, Lord Reiss! You have to believe me! I wasn’t in it for the power! I was only trying to serve your best interests.”  
Rod handed Urklyn a pistol. “His fate was sealed from the moment he entered the room tonight. Do it swiftly.”  
Urklyn didn’t need to be told twice as he flicked off the safety and pulled the trigger, hitting Alder square in the forehead. He fell backwards lifelessly, blood and gore staining the floors. Urklyn wasn’t finished as he stalked over and kicked his body several times to get relief from his fury. “You bastard! I was so close!” Because of your two-faced stupidity, I’m in this situation! I hope you rot in hell for all eternity, you good-for-nothing, scum-sucking dick! Urklyn screamed internally. His mind darkened as he realized with a sense of remorse that this was the first time he had ended the life of a person he had known, if only for a short time.   
“You didn’t hesitate like I expected,” Rod said with a slight nod. “Eliminate the remaining two, and we are done here.”  
Urklyn froze, keeping his back towards the others. “What about the Restorer, Father? She’s still out there.”  
“You said so yourself: with the information in the letter you so graciously obtained, she should be easy to track down. These two will serve no further purpose for us,” Rod replied.  
“So be it.” There was no way to save them. There was nothing he could do. Just listen and obey.   
Mikkel shook his head sadly. “Rod, I never thought I would see the day where your family came above the good of the people.”  
Rod’s icy gaze met that of his fellow lord’s. “We have the Queen to think of. Nothing else will come close to comparing to her significance.”  
Mikkel sighed as he looked to the nineteen-year old. “Urklyn, I really had believed in you. I thought, just maybe, that you would be different. But it seems that your father’s blood--.”  
Urklyn didn’t let the man finish his sentence as he whirled around and fired his reloaded shot into the noble’s chest. Mikkel’s last words came out as a choked gurgle, then he also slumped over as best as the restraints would allow, dead. A weight settled into the teen’s chest, a heavy darkness that threatened to consume him entirely. He was different. He never wanted this to happen. And now here he was, the spitting image of his father doing his work. Hope was dying, at his hands. Mikkel Haus was dead: may Goddess Ymir have mercy on his poor soul. Now, only Kyler remained.  
“Any last words, Corporal?” Kenny taunted with his trademark, sadistic grin.   
Kyler gave a dark, disgusted look at the murderous bodyguard. Her green eyes then drifted to Urklyn, and for a moment, he could see several emotions flash across her face in rapid succession. Anger, sadness, fear, and finally a cold emptiness. “You caved. I was an idiot to believe you would be anything more than a coward. Enjoy hell, Urklyn.”  
Urklyn reloaded his weapon before taking the final shot. As the woman’s head was blown apart, he felt the depths of his soul shatter along with it. She was such a strong woman and a good friend. She saved his life when she easily could’ve let him die at the hands of that weapons supplier. She was a true patriot, a believer in what this country could be. She went up against a psychopath like Kenny and lived to tell the tale, something very few people could ever attest to. This is how she would go out? Being backstabbed by someone she trusted? It was despicable, and his hands were drenched in her innocent blood.  
Kenny gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Not bad, kid. Not bad.”  
Rod examined each of the bodies as if he was expecting one of them to stand up. When none did, he approached the murderer with a satisfied look. “You’ve gotten stronger over the years, Urklyn. While I don’t approve of your backhanded methods, I can appreciate the results it has gotten you.” He clapped his hand on top his shoulder. “You’ve done well, son. Let’s go home.”   
The teen didn’t listen as he stared at the corpses he made. He wanted to sob, beg Goddess Ymir for forgiveness, but nothing would change. His father won once again, and it was all his fault. The steps he had made availed him nothing but the blood of innocent lives’ forever on his hands. He really was his father’s son.


	18. The Rise and Fall of the Usurper

Within the Interior, there were two main stereotypes for taverns. The first was where the general populace went: run down, reeking of stale beer, and protected by a drunken thug. For those with more coin in the pockets, the second was the easy choice. High quality, well-maintained buildings,—occasionally doubling as a combination of tavern and brothel—were meant to entice gentlemen to enjoy the finer aspects and pleasures of life. The Immoral Titan’s Tavern was the latter, boasting an elegant exterior and a polished bar room floor. A pleasant din of laughter, clinking glasses, and music filled the air.  
All in all, it was the perfect place for Urklyn to visit and get away from his horrible life. Enough booze or whatever drinks were in store for him should do the necessary job on this Saturday night. “Evening, bartender, how’s business?” he greeted politely, showing off the Reiss charisma as best he could under the circumstances.  
“As prosperous as ever. Let’s make this a good night for the both of us, shall we? What are we drinking this evening?” The young man with black hair replied, slapping his hands on the counter in front of Urklyn.   
“Uh…” Urklyn scratched the back of his head nervously. “This is my first time going to a tavern. I have no idea where to start.”  
“Perhaps I can help with that,” a sultry, female voice came from behind his shoulder. The young lady had long, wavy brown hair, and warm molten-chocolate brown eyes. The top of her head came up to Urklyn’s shoulder, and she rested her hand on his arm reassuringly. “We’ll take two of your finest, if you don’t mind,” the brunette shot a wink to the bartender. “I remember how awkward my first time here was. It’d be my pleasure to assist you, Mister…”  
He gave an unamused look. “I think you know who I am, Miss. Bunch of rowdy patrons, and second I show up, you’re on me without a moment of hesitation.”  
“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for an attractive young man such as yourself to come in,” she replied easily. “But where are my manners? My name is Carly, and it certainly is nice to meet you.”  
“Nice to meet you, too, I suppose,” Urklyn responded carefully. He eyed her hands in case she tried to make for his wallet.  
The bartender slid two glasses of expensive ale toward the pair. “On your tab, Carly?”   
She giggled. “Travis, you know me so well by now. Come along, handsome, I’ve got a table over here,” she gestured to Urklyn with her head while picking up the pair of glasses.   
“Travis, is it? Keep an eye on this for me.” Urklyn handed him his wallet and whispered in his ear, “Property of the Reiss family.”  
Travis’s jovial smile faded instantly and he gave a short nod. “Understood, sir. Enjoy your drinks.”  
Urklyn took a seat and gulped his first drink. His eyes bulged out, and he started coughing profusely. “Holy shit,” he managed out.  
Carly giggled musically again. “Haven’t you ever had an ale before? I know you’re of age. You’re supposed to sip it a bit slowly til you get some in your system, then you can drink it faster,” she explained, taking a swallow of her own.   
“And how old are you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Nineteen,” she purred. “I’ve had my share of drinks. And what about you? I still haven’t caught your first name.”  
“I bet you know what it is, Carly,” he told her, leaning closely. “I want to hear you say it.”  
“Mmm, you do like playing games, don’t you? So what if I do? Do I get to collect a prize?” She leaned forward so he had an eyeful of cleavage, while touching his forearm gently.   
“I might buy you a proper shirt,” Urklyn replied simply.  
Carly’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you can’t be serious. This isn’t even the most low-cut garment I own,” she promised suggestively.   
“Uh huh. That’s taking the easy way out, Carly,” he informed her. “Any woman can expose enough of themselves to attract the gaze of any man. You’ll get a bunch of slobbering dogs looking to cop a feel.”  
The young woman smiled and leaned back, taking a long swallow of her ale. “Touché, Urklyn. Perhaps I just wanted to enjoy some more refined company this evening. Is that so wrong?”  
“No. I just don’t buy that story.” He finished the rest of drink and spoke in a wheezed voice. “You know…” He coughed. “Excuse me.”  
She signaled to Travis. “Another round, please. He’s had one but I think he can hold more than he’s letting on.” She threw back the rest of her drink easily. “So if you don’t buy the story I’m telling, what’s my motivation?”  
“I’ve seen the kind of eyes you’re making before, Carly,” he said as the next round landed on their table. “The ‘I want you’ eyes. Any weak-willed man would cave in instantly.” Probably how Alma seduced my father.   
She crossed her knees under the table. “And I take it that you’re not a weak-willed man. After all, you couldn’t be. Not as the eldest son of the Reiss family.”  
“Of course not, but here’s your challenge.” He leaned in close and whispered, “You’ve got to make me want to touch you.”  
A sly smirk crossed her face. “Challenge accepted, Urklyn. I’ll go a step further, however. I’m willing to bet that by the end of the night you won’t be able to keep your hands off of me.”  
“No tricks, Carly,” he warned. “That means don’t make my hand end up on your chest.”  
“Define tricks. Does that mean I have to keep my hands to myself all evening?” She gave a slight pout, acting like a petulant child. “I like to touch, though.”  
“How about this? If I end up copping a feel, you can return in kind.” This woman really thinks I’m an idiot. He thought to himself.   
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass to him.   
He gave her a toast and wisely sipped his drink. “Okay, it’s not that bad,” he admitted.  
“HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME, YOU PIG!” A shrill voice screamed from across the room. “YOU PROMISED ME THAT YOU WERE DONE SEEING HER! AND YET I FIND YOU HERE, NAKED AND--”   
“I was saying goodbye!” A raspy voice replied, cutting off the woman’s ranting.  
Urklyn whipped his head backwards, seeing a red-haired beauty chasing a man wearing nothing but a look of horror as he ran out of the tavern. I get the feeling that’s what happened when Mother found out about Father. He thought to himself.  
Carly’s hand slipped a white powder into his ale while his gaze was away from her. A quick finger spinning in it had the substance dissolved, leaving no residue or evidence behind. “You’d think it’d be a more common occurrence, but that’s only the second time I’ve seen a man flee from here naked as the day he was born,” she commented once she was finished with her task.  
None the wiser, Urklyn returned to his own brown-haired issue. “Infidelity. What is wrong with those morons?” He took another sip, not registering there was something else added to it. “They marry someone, and then they’re like, ‘You know what? I’m gonna go bang someone else.’”  
“Maybe it’s boredom. Maybe some people just can’t seem to settle down,” Carly shrugged it off. “I’m too young to settle down with just one person. I want to enjoy the pleasures of my youth while I can.”  
“Right. This stuff is temporary, you know.” He finished the last of his drink. “Can’t have sex forever.” He let out a sigh. “That being said, you are a beautiful woman to look at, and I don’t mean just your boobs.”  
A smirk crossed her face. “A compliment? For me? Why, Urklyn, I didn’t know you could be so suave. Well, thank you.” She took another long swallow of her second ale as Travis brought the third round. “I think that’ll be enough for now, Travis. We don’t want Urklyn to be completely wasted on his first time out,” she said with a sweet smile.  
As Urklyn took on his third and final drink, his eyes began to move more towards her chest than her face. She had a good set; that much was true. He also began to felt stirrings that he had been trying to resist this whole time. He could do nothing to stop them.  
Her eyes followed his gaze. “Well, I would tell you to stop staring, but since that’s the name of the game…” She grinned and leaned closer to him. “If you want to touch, we’ll need to take this elsewhere.” Her hand slipped under the table to his thigh and slid it upward, all subtlety being tossed to the wind.  
“Wait, the deal was… the deal…” He found himself getting a bit drowsy.  
Her hand ghosted around it, then landed firmly on his manhood. “Let’s take this upstairs, shall we, Urklyn?” she whispered in his ear, taking his hand and guiding him towards the back staircase.  
His body commanded attention, and Carly was the only one who could satisfy it. So, he gave in.

——————————————-

“...And from this, we can see that in her infinite wisdom, the Great Goddess Ymir has blessed each and every one of us with her many unique gifts and talents. The talents of charity, of compassion, of piety, and of endless grace, poured out on the less fortunate,” Frieda said with a pious smile. Her white robes gleamed under the lights of the Sunday morning chapel, the reflection giving a holy aura. The nobles, including all of the Reiss family, listened with supposed rapt attention to her every word. “May the gifts of the Goddess be forever in your minds and in your heart. Remember the many ways that she has poured out her favor on us, and be forever blessed…”  
“She’s making Priest Fred sound entertaining,” Dirk muttered under his breath.  
Abel rolled her eyes. “This is such a load of bull. How can anyone be as religious as she is?” She whispered to Dirk.  
Florian looked over at her older siblings and made a shushing motion, pointing back to the pulpit where Frieda still spoke. “Be quiet, we are trying to listen. Mother will be upset if we disrupt another sermon.”  
“She was the one who threw the tomato,” Dirk complained.  
“With our hands raised high, we offer the fruit of our labors, to please the Goddess. With our time, and our energy, we know it’s not wasted, for she allows us to enjoy the work of our hands…” Frieda’s voice trailed off when she heard the sound of someone slowly clapping. At first she thought it was Kenny, but then her eyes widened at seeing her little brother instigating it.   
“Great speech there, Big Sister,” Dirk complimented with sarcasm drenching his tone. “I especially like the whole ‘hands’ bit. You know what I should’ve been praising Goddess Ymir for? Five functional fingers on my hands. Guess I got screwed over on that.” He held out his bandaged hand for all to see.  
Frieda’s eyes hardened and she looked directly at Abel. “Escort him out, please. We will be speaking after the service.”  
Abel wanted nothing more than to be an ant on the floor in this moment, but she nodded, silently tugging Dirk by the elbow and leading him toward the back doors of the chapel. “Come on, Dirk. Let’s go.”   
To her surprise, he jerked himself out of her grip, stalking towards Frieda slowly. “Oh, you wanna talk services. Well, well, well, why don’t we ask the refugees of Wall Maria what they think of your services? Oh, wait. They can’t because you haven’t given them any. Actually, come to think of it, how many of our fellow church-goers here actually did a service to someone not in Wall Sina, besides me, of course?” He ignored the chapel bodyguards striding up to him. “Aw, no hands? You’re all just a bunch of selfish, self-righteous, sleazy wastes of fresh air who would rather listen to the drones of a--   
“That’s quite enough!” Frieda’s eyes flashed with anger, cutting him off. “Dirk, you will be silent! How dare you interrupt services of worship to our Goddess in such a fashion?!”  
“Then maybe you should serve me up on a platter and send me to meet the Goddess. I know Uncle Uri liked it!”  
Abel’s hand covered her mouth in horror. She knew that the narcotics that Dirk had been given had been affecting her brother, but he’d never acted like this before. She was nearly shaking as she grabbed him firmly by the wrist and yanked him toward the door. “Dirk, it’s time to go. NOW!”  
Dirk flipped his eldest sister the bird with the only hand he still could, and stomped toward the door with the chapel guards on his heels. “Whatever. Why don’t you get laid, Frieda? Might help you get your head out of your ass and lighten up on all this religious bullshit,” he called with a belligerent swagger. Abel followed a step behind, looking white as a sheet.  
Frieda gripped the edges of the pulpit so tightly that the wood creaked under her white knuckles while the congregation whispered about what had just happened. Thoughts of Nate swelled but she swiftly quenched them. She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on the image of the Goddess that was over the door that her siblings had departed through. Within her mind, the voice that was hers and yet wasn’t spoke up with a seething tone.   
He is right. You do need to think about continuing your mission. Find yourself a man and bear his children before your time runs out.   
Not. The. Time. I’m not having this discussion right now.   
Perhaps later. Remember time is running short.   
I couldn’t forget it, even if I tried.   
The idiot brought up the transferral of the holy inheritance. In front of filthy, noble pigs who know nothing of the power contained within. He should be castrated and removed from the Walls for his repeated insolence and lack of respect to his Queen.   
He’s not been himself since the kidnapping. Faulting him for the trauma he’s been under—  
You give the boy too much credit. He knows full well what he’s saying. Will you allow him to run his mouth unchecked, or will you show him how a True Queen rules her people?  
The question for which she had no immediate reply lingered in her mind. Forcing a smile back on her face, she picked up her notes and returned to her sermon. Clearing her throat, she began to speak again. “As I was saying, bearing this in mind, we can certainly…”  
Outside, Abel swallowed hard, watching her brother when he flopped down against a wall of the church, still continuing his ranting.   
“You know something, Abel?” Dirk asked with a dark chuckle. “When they sent over my finger, they were nice enough to carve my name on it, you know? I mean, no matter how many fingers get cut off, everyone will know that that finger is my finger. It was my favorite finger, too. You know what? Father has so few mantle pieces in this house. Let’s add my finger to the collection.” His chuckles quickly turned to laughs. “Just think of all the visitors that come by here. They could look at the mantle and be like, ‘Whose finger is that hanging there?’ ‘It’s mine. It’s a monument now. I’ve been immortalized!’” Dirk’s laughter was uncontrollable as tears streamed down his face.  
Abel could say nothing in response to that, but dropped to her knees and wrapped her brother in a tight hug.  
The door opened behind the pair and Florian slipped out. “Are you okay?” She asked softly, catching a glimpse of her brother and sister. Abel shook her head at her and tightened her grip as Dirk sobbed. Florian crouched and joined the hug. “It’s not your fault, Dirk,” she murmured. “It’ll be okay.” The teen just cried harder, clinging tightly onto his sisters.  
The sound of music came drifting through the air, and the doors were propped open as the service came to an end. Greta strode quickly out the doors, her eyes scanning the area before settling on where her daughters were huddled around Dirk. “Let’s go home. Clearly you weren’t ready to be out and about, let alone in the public eye,” she said stiffly.   
“Mother, what about Frieda?” Florian asked, her eyes lifting to meet her mother’s gaze.   
“She will be taking another carriage home with your father and Urklyn,” Greta replied. “Frieda needs some time to calm down anyway.” She gently pried the girls away from Dirk and pulled him to his feet, cradling him close to her chest. “Come on, son. Let’s get you home.” Abel and Florian followed, wisely not saying anything about the tears rolling down the faces of their brother and mother.  
Inside the chapel, as the last of the parishioners trickled outside, Rod and Urklyn met with Frieda by the altar in the front.  
“Frieda, are you all right?” Rod asked, worried for her wellbeing.  
The young queen took a deep breath before responding. “No, I’m not. Dirk should not have been in the services if he was going to behave in such a manner. It’s disrespectful in the extreme.”  
“Right. I'll be sure to tell him that after he's done sobbing in our mother's arms,” Urklyn retorted.  
Frieda glared at him. “I wasn’t talking to you,” she snapped. “I notice you were nearly nodding off during the services. You need to learn some damn respect as well!”  
Urklyn refused to back down. “Sorry. Who am I talking to? My sister, or the ‘Holy Inheritance?’”  
Anger flashed in Frieda’s eyes. “I am both, and you’d do well to fucking remember that!” She said coldly.   
Her brother stepped forward until they were nose to nose with each other. “Let me tell you something, Your Majesty, and I use those terms loosely, you can bounce around in the robes delivering empty platitudes in a room full of scumbags who are busy trying to visualize what you look like naked. That is our brother suffering right now, so instead of lecturing us on propriety, take you own fucking advice and show him some compassion because he damn well needs it. You have a problem with it? Gut me on the altar right now.”  
She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated to check some of her venom. Her head began to pound, and she pressed her finger to her temple. “What would you expect me to do? Allow him to disrupt all of the services unchecked?”   
“How about don’t stand up on here giving sermons as if you have any right to, Frieda?” he suggested. “I don’t know what the Holy Inheritance is telling you, but it’s making you out to be as worthless as the words of the Wall Cult. You’re better than that.”  
Interloper! Blasphemer! Heretic! How dare he--!?  
“How dare you say that I have no right?! It is my DUTY as Queen to share with the people!” she seethed, her eyes slowly glazing over, as if a thin film coated her vision. Her voice echoed throughout the chapel. Thankfully, all the visitors were long gone so that her cover wasn’t accidentally blown. Only one person was watching the exchange: Rod Reiss, who had taken a seat in one of the pews. His eyes were analyzing the situation, but he made no moves to interfere. Only God would determine the outcome.  
That being said, Urklyn took the moment to pounce on her mistake. “Speak up, Frieda. I don’t think all of Sina could hear you, or should I call you Inheritance?” He glared into her purple irises. “Leave my sister alone.”  
“Foolish boy. She and I are one,” the words came flowing from her mouth almost immediately. It was still Frieda’s voice, but it carried an otherworldly menace that demanded respect. “Hold your tongue on matters that you don’t understand!”  
“I understand perfectly,” Urklyn shot back, crossing his arms. “I’d call you a demon, but even demons have more of a spine than you ever will have.”  
Her hand flew, striking his face with a resounding slap. “You will respect me!”  
The nineteen year old man chuckled, shaking off the blow. “If this was Frieda, she would’ve dislocated my arm.” The levity immediately faded as he said, “You should show us respect, Inheritance. Without us, who would you be? Nothing. That’s all you give to us, and that’s all you’re worth. Now, give me back my sister, or I will make sure the next person that takes the power is one without the bloodline.”  
“Who are you to claim that you have—” Frieda’s expression visibly shifted, and her sharp eyesight returned. Panting and holding her temples in her hands, she spoke. “...Urklyn? What… what just happened?”  
“The Inheritance gave a crappy sermon,” Urklyn answered simply. “It didn’t like my criticisms. Considering you haven’t gutted me with a knife, I’d say that you’re back.” He looked closer at her eyes, and his own widened. “Frieda, your eyes.” He handed her a handheld mirror.  
The haziness that had clouded her vision cleared fully, yet her eyes still widened when she saw her reflection. Her eyes were now a crystal shade of blue, a single ring of violet haloing the pupils.   
“Frieda, go to the carriage and take a moment to rest,” Rod finally spoke, standing up. “I need to speak with my son.”  
Urklyn flinched, though it was subtle this time. He had no idea what his father was planning for him today.  
Frieda nodded, walking with weak knees to the carriage outside. This day had certainly not gone according to plan.   
Urklyn watched as the doors closed. He half-expected his father to bring out a bunch of priests to shoot today for whatever reason.  
“I have never seen anyone in my family successfully wage battle with the Inheritance, Urklyn,” Rod told him seriously. “Your uncle tried with my father, I tried with him, and we both failed.”  
“So, what does that mean?” the young man wondered.  
“I don’t know. Whatever Frieda does next will determine whether what just happened was a good thing or a bad thing.”  
Neither praise nor criticism. That’s new. “Is that all, Father?” he wondered.  
“I’m surprised no one else has noticed, but you reek of alcohol,” Rod responded with a shake of his head. “Make sure you take two showers and put something on to disguise the smell. We don’t need your mother to get herself worried over you, too.”  
Urklyn nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll be more careful.”

————————————— 

Panting heavily, Urklyn pushed the door open, practically stumbling inside. He had no idea what the hour was. All he knew was that it was dark. He fumbled around for the door handle and managed to close the door softer than someone in his condition would have been able to. If he could just make it up the stairs and reach the shower, he could scrub the residual smell off his body.  
Florian paused at the top of the stairs, her book falling from her hand with a soft thump. “Urklyn? Are you okay?” she whispered, picking up her book quickly, clutching it to her chest.  
The eldest brother looked up at her and shook his head. “Go back to sleep, Flo,” he murmured, grabbing the rails to keep himself steady.  
“I’ve never seen you like this,” she said softly. Bloodshot eyes, stumbling on the stairs, and smelling of alcohol, mixed with some sort of musky scent that reminded her of sweat. Was that a woman’s perfume as well? Her sharp eyes and nose didn’t miss much. “What’s going on, Urklyn?”  
“It's none of your bushhh-iness.” Now his voice was starting to slur. “Jushht go to bed before our stupid parents find out.”  
Florian set her book on the railing and reached for his arm. “You’re nearly falling over. Let me help you get to bed,” she urged, concern heavy in her voice. “Have you been drinking?”  
Urklyn let out a loud chuckle as he gripped her hand. “Noooooo… what gave it away? Good news is, there's more than alcohol you smell.” He laughed at his own, crude joke.  
She wrinkled her nose like only a preteen girl could. “I don’t want to know… why were you drinking so much? Did Father send you out for a meeting at a pub again?”  
“Oh, I wish that pudgy asshole could've been there,” Urklyn replied as he hugged the wall. “Take a few drinks and choke on them, that son of a bitch.”  
Florian gasped. “Why would you say such a thing about Father? He’s done nothing but taken care of us for all of these years.”  
Urklyn cackled as he sped-walk into his room and proceeded to flop on the bed back first. “Oh, innoshent, little Florian, you have no idea the kind of monscter your preciousshhh Daddy is. You remember…” He got distracted by waving his finger in a circle. “You remember the Garbers?”  
Florian thought back. “I think I met them once at a fancy dinner that Mother forced us to attend when I was seven. Why?”  
“Wanna know how they all died? Father took me there when I was fifteen and… bang.” His fingers imitated a gun as he started pointing at random spots on the wall. “Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.”  
The baby of the family shook her head, refusing to believe it. “Urklyn, you’ve been drinking. You should go to bed before you keep spouting more nonsense.”  
“Oh, go to hell, Flo,” he shot back immaturely. “You weren't there when they were all murdered. I was there. I watched them all die!”  
She took a step back. “Urklyn, you’re scaring me. Stop this, please. Father isn’t like that. You’re just drunk. Go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”  
Urklyn waved her off. “Just get out of my room and enjoy the innocence you have left because Father will take it away from you.”  
Florian turned on her heel and ran back to the stairs, sitting on the top step, and pulling her book back to her chest. What was going on? Ever since that late night a little over a week ago, Urklyn had been drinking every night. She’d seen him drink occasionally over the last year since he came of age, but never so frequently. Between him and Dirk… she buried her head into her lap. Things weren’t looking good.  
There was movement behind and she noticed Urklyn wobble towards the stairs. “Changed my mind. I'll be home later.” Before Florian could stop him, he slipped on the first step and fell down the stairs with a loud thud once he reached the bottom.   
“Urklyn!” she cried, leaping to her feet and racing down the stairs to check on her eldest brother. “Are you okay? Please be okay,” she pleaded.   
To her surprise, despite the groaning, he had that stupid grin on his face. “Oh, this is nothing.” He began to crawl towards the front door. “Quit worrying about me already. Leave that to Mother.”  
“Please don’t go out again, Urklyn. You’re already drunk. Just go back upstairs and go to bed. Please,” Florian tried her hardest to convince him.   
“Fuck off, Flo,” he grumbled, waving her off.  
“Uncle Kenny was right,” she said, dropping her hands to her sides and turning back to the stairs.  
“Who gives a shit about Kenny?” Urklyn asked. “Definitely not me.”  
“But he’s worried about you, just like I am,” Florian sighed over her shoulder. “We had a long talk a week ago about you. He cares too.”  
Urklyn stopped in his tracks. “So, you talked about me, huh? What about?” The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.  
Florian didn’t seem to notice as she turned back to face him. “Well, I mentioned how you’d been so distracted, and I thought that maybe you’d found a girl but that wouldn’t explain why you’d choose something or someone over what was going on with Dirk…” she trailed off. “He hadn’t noticed that part but he said he’d look into things, to help take care of you.”  
“So you told him… you told him…” Urklyn slowly stood up and turned his bloodshot eyes onto his sister, anger bubbling to the surface. “I should've known it was you.”  
Florian took a step backwards, and tripped on the stairs, landing hard on her backside several steps up. “What was me? Urklyn, I don’t understand… I’m just worried about you.” Her voice shook.   
‘“You're worried about me?’” he mocked as he advanced on her. “Oh, poor, pitiful you. Always nosing into places where your nose DOESN'T BELONG!!”  
Florian shivered at the harsh words. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, cowering away from her eldest brother.   
He continued to rail against her mercilessly. “You have no fucking clue what you did! You think saying sorry is gonna fix anything? Welcome to the real world, Florian. Apologies don't fix the fact you screwed me over!”   
Tears rolled down her face and she tried to hide her face and torso as far away from him as she could, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. She had no idea what was going on or why he was so angry. She couldn’t think of any reason why he would be upset with her for caring about his well-being. His anger scared her.  
“What, you're crying? Can't even handle this?” Urklyn was so disgusted with her he stalked towards the front door. “Do me a favor: go fuck yourself!” He slammed the door so hard, the painting of Ymir Fritz fell to the floor, its delicate frame breaking on impact.  
Florian cried harder, curling around herself and shaking. This wasn’t Urklyn. Something major had changed, and it frightened her to no end. Of all the nights for her parents to be gone! She couldn’t fault them for having taken Dirk to the infirmary for a check of his meds. He hadn’t slept without night terrors since returning home following his ordeal. And Abel refused to leave his side during his fits. So the middle siblings, along with Rod and Greta had left the house several hours before. Frieda had begged off to bed early, claiming a headache. And Urklyn… he’d been in town since mid-afternoon. Now this had happened. She hugged her legs to her chest and sniffed. A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched, giving a short scream.  
“Florian, please. It’s just me. What happened?” Frieda asked softly, taking a seat on the stair and wrapping her baby sister in a hug.  
Wiping her eyes, Florian slowly told her everything.

\----------------------------------------

Urklyn slammed his empty mug on the counter. “Bartender, fill her up!” he ordered with a hiccup. This bartender shook his graying head, but filled the cup. “Hope you know what you’re doing, kid.”  
“That’s what I would like to know,” the familiar voice from behind Urklyn spoke. “I think you’ve had more than enough already, Urklyn.” Her dark eyebrows raised as she took in the sight and smell of her younger brother.  
“Go away, Frieda,” Urklyn mumbled through half-lidded eyes. “You're not my mother.”  
“No, I’m your eldest sister, and I will not have my younger brother making a complete ass of himself in public,” she retorted. “You’re nobility. But anyone looking at you now would just see a stupid, drunken fool. What are you even doing?”  
“Exactly what you said. Becoming a stupid, drunken fool and making an ass of myself.” He stared at the newly-filled mug of beer. “Only thing I can do right, apparently.”  
She slid into the seat next to him, and signaled the bartender. The man silently handed her a large glass of red wine. She took a long sip from it before she turned back to her brother. “What possesses you to say such a thing? You’re the eldest son of Rod Reiss. You’ve got a hell of a lot going for you already.”  
“Frieda, for Ymir's sake, talk like a fucking human being,” Urklyn complained. “You think my smell is bad? That language is toxic to all mankind.”  
She gave an unladylike snort. “You mean like your language earlier with Florian was any better?”  
He let out a long sigh, nearly slumping over, but he caught himself. “Does she hate me?”  
“I doubt it. But you’re not on her list of favorite people right now. She’s confused, scared, and you hurt her feelings really badly.” She paused and she glowered at him. “I should kick your ass for that right here and now, regardless of if you’re drunk or not.”  
“You all should hate me,” Urklyn replied as he spun his finger in his drink. “If I can't tell you why, then maybe…” His voice trailed off as his eyes glazed over.  
“Maybe what? I have no reason to hate you, Urklyn. I never have,” Frieda said softly, taking another swallow of wine. “Yeah, maybe you’ve screwed up with something, and you can’t talk about it, but that doesn’t give me reason to hate you.”  
“Then hate our father,” he suggested. “Maybe that will change things.”  
Before Frieda could even rationalize what that meant, she felt the hot, foul breath of alcohol on her neck coupled with a hand on her lower back and slipping down to grope her backside.   
“Hey, pretty thing,” a drunkard whispered. “How are you--?”  
The man was interrupted by a large mug smashing into his face and a foot kicking him onto an occupied table. The landing caused several drinks to go flying, splashing onto other customers. All chatter ceased immediately as everyone's eyes drifted to the assailant.  
“Don't touch my sister, you filthy cocksucker,” Urklyn snarled, fuming with rage.  
Frieda turned slowly, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I can handle myself just fine, Urklyn,” she chastised him. “You didn’t have to waste your drink on an asshole like him.”  
The customers that had drinks spilled on them stood up, anger burning in their eyes. Ignoring the bartender's protests, they stalked towards the young adult.  
Frieda stepped in front of Urklyn. “Let’s not behave like savages, gentlemen. I’m sure that he didn’t mean to spill your drinks. How about another rou--”  
One man backhanded her across the face, knocking her down with the force of the blow. “Shut up, stupid bitch.”  
Urklyn let out his best, drunken battle cry as he tackled the man to the floor. He punched him repeatedly until kicks from the other patrons knocked him off. He didn't have the sense to shield his body, so he was rewarded with several bruises to a nearly-broken ribcage.  
Frieda stood and spat blood onto the bar, thanks to biting her tongue from the face shot she’d received. She grabbed the guy that was actively kicking Urklyn and swiftly dislocated his knee with a kick, sending him to the floor. The second man, the same drunk who had been bold enough to grope her, got a booted heel to the groin which had him crumpling around himself in a heap on the floor. “You’re not my type, dumbass,” she hissed.   
Just then a pair of MPs entered the tavern, batons ready. “Alright, who’s responsible for the disturbance?” The first, burly man asked, looking to the bartender for a reply.   
The bartender didn’t hesitate, pointing his finger at Urklyn on the floor. “This drunken fool started the brawl.”  
Frieda glared at the bartender, the urge to dump out the remainder of her wine over his head was strong, but she didn’t dare risk further issue for the Reiss family. What would Father say to that? She shuddered internally at the notion.  
As for Urklyn, he was dragged to his feet and shackled, too stunned to try and pull any stunts. His legs gave out a bit as he started to pass out. However, he had one move left. Before succumbing to unconsciousness, he vomited right on Nile Dok.


	19. The Weight of Despair

“....-klyn. You… up. Urklyn. Wake up. URKLYN!”  
There were no words to adequately describe the severe amount of pounding in Urklyn’s head as he slowly began to rouse from the world of unconsciousness. Such a peaceful place it was. A world without troubles, sorrows, or annoying, screaming people like the voice in his ear. Hell, the sound was sharpening the pain he felt like daggers burying themselves into his skull. Adding the intense nausea he felt, Urklyn was ready to take his rightful place as one among the dead.  
He barely managed to open his eyes because his eyelashes were glued shut by dried-up tears. The light blinded him, causing him to wince in agony. All he could remember was vomiting on someone before passing out. He was really angry because someone… someone pissed him off somehow. It had to do with Frieda. Oh, God, what did Dirk do this time?  
“Glad you’re finally awake. Father and Mother are talking to a lawyer. They should be back in momentarily.”   
His vision was beginning to clear just enough to recognize a familiar, black-haired woman standing several feet away. Iron bars separated her from the wooden pallet that her brother was laying on. “Frieda?” Goddess above, his voice sounded so hoarse.  
“How do you feel? Do you remember anything yet?” Her voice held concern as she added, “Having had too much to drink before, I don’t envy you the headache you’re probably fighting.”  
“Frieda, keep it down,” Urklyn groaned as he held his head in a feeble attempt to stop the pounding. “You don’t have to shout.”  
“I wasn’t even talking all that loudly,” she pointed out. “Anyway, apparently between the damages done to the bar, along with everything else, they are having to discuss what the options for --”  
“Frieda!” Urklyn glowered at her with bloodshot eyes. “Slow. The Fuck. Down. What happened last night?”   
The young queen blew out her breath slowly, and looked at her shoes. “You really don’t remember any of it?” she asked, lifting her gaze back to her brother.  
He shook his head. “Only bits and pieces. I knew I drank too much, I vomited on some poor sap, I got laid by some--Carly!” He lunged at the bars, panting like a starving predator, and fell to his knees in process. “That bitch spiked my drink with something. Where is she?”  
Frieda shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. All I’m aware of from yesterday was it started by you coming home, drunk off your ass, and traumatizing Florian.”  
“No, no, there was a girl at the Immoral Titan’s Tavern. Find her. You have to find her.” He clenched his fist in frustration. “I can’t remember what she looked like, damn it.”   
“That’s not what you need to worry about right now, Urklyn. Father will be back any minute, and I’m trying to make sure that you don’t look like even more of an ass than usual!” His sister snapped at him. “Will you at least try and listen to what I’m trying to tell you?”  
Slowly, Urklyn looked up at his eldest sister. He felt weaker than he did in his entire life. “You said something happened to Florian?”  
“You happened, dumbass,” she replied venomously. “You came home drunk, screamed at her, and then headed back to bar to drink again. Oh, and you slammed the door so hard that you brought the painting of the Goddess down too,” she added as an afterthought.  
“No one gives a fuck about the Goddess, Frieda,” Urklyn muttered. “Only your blasted Inheritance.”  
One day, boy. You will learn your place.  
Frieda slapped the side of her brother’s head through the bars. “You’re missing the point. “After that, I followed you back to the bar, and we started talking. A drunken sleazeball decided to cop a feel on me, and you went ballistic.”  
“Is he dead?” Urklyn hoped.  
“No, but he’s got several broken ribs from you kicking him into the table, not to mention a broken nose, 4 missing teeth, and a ruptured testicle,” Frieda described matter-of-factly.  
“Close to death. Good enough.”  
The door behind Frieda slammed open to reveal their very livid mother stalking towards the cell door.  
“Overdrinking, sleeping around with Goddess-knows how many women, screaming at your baby sister, starting bar fights,” she railed, grabbing the bars as if she were about to rip them off in an attempt to strangle him. “What the hell possessed you to do these things, Urklyn?”  
Urklyn backed up until he was against the wall. “Mother, I--.”  
“Don’t interrupt me, young man!” she demanded with a glare that could set the country on fire.  
Frieda wisely stepped further away, ever so slowly. The less she was noticed right now, the better.  
“Now, if a noble had problems, he would seek the help of his family, or someone licensed to deal with such mental problems, but you? Oh, no, no, no.” She let out a mirthless chuckle. “You think it’s a good idea to solve your problems by playing Man’s Favorite Game: who can get to the bottom of the glass first? And that is just the very tip of the mountain of trash we’ve had to wade through to get to our second-born son. Then, you had to go out and lose your virginity to some floozy you met at the bar. How much did you pay her to enjoy an escapade you couldn’t wait to experience? You couldn’t even contain yourself. Did your father teach you that one?”  
Rod Reiss, the puppetmaster of the country, the one who could arrange the deaths of all his enemies and leave his hands sparkling clean, joined Frieda in being very close to the door.  
“One would think after dancing with alcohol and whores, you’d be done, but there is so much more. Your sister tries to help you, and you try to bite her head clean off!” She slammed her palm against the wall so hard, it echoed throughout the hallway. “I have tolerated so much trash from every single member of this family, but attacking your little sister is something I will never stand. Now get up off the ground and face the consequences before I hang you out to dry in a public stock so the world can be exposed to your stench!” Greta whipped her head to her eldest daughter and husband. “Anything either of you care to add?”  
Frieda shook her head. “No, Mother.” She had no desire to garner any of her mother’s wrath when she was in such a mood.  
“No, dear. I believe you’ve made your point,” Rod added sheepishly.  
“Well, I suppose that’s my cue, then,” a new woman’s voice joined the conversation. She strode from her place by the door with Rod to stand in front of the bars with Greta. This middle-aged woman had long brown hair that was tied up in a sleek ponytail, brown eyes that lacked the warmth of anything beyond cordiality, and wore a slim black dress with the skirt ending just below the knees. Urklyn’s eyes landed on a black briefcase in one hand, a clipboard in the other, and a pencil tucked behind her ear. There was only one reason someone with all of those items would pay him a visit. He was screwed.  
“Meet Carolyn Amsdale, the best damn lawyer within the Walls,” Rod introduced her. “And she will be tasked with trying to defend you after all the bullshit that you pulled.” He sent his son a hard look.  
“Personally, I believe it’s an open-and-shut case,” Greta commented, crossing her arms. “It comes down to how long it will take to ensure you never do something to embarrass our family again.” She glanced at the lawyer. “I’d say three to six months in a public prison will cure him of his instabilities.”  
Rod stepped back toward the cell as well. “And as we discussed earlier, a month’s worth of community service under direct supervision so we don’t have another repeat of Gabrela should be more than adequate.”  
“Of course, you’d have your lapdog of a bodyguard watching over him. I’m sure that will keep Urklyn out of trouble.”  
“Do I get a vote?” Urklyn asked timidly.  
“Shut up, Urklyn,” Frieda, Rod, and Greta chorused.  
Carolyn shook her head and took a seat in the nearest chair. This was going to take a bit to hash out.  
“You forget how efficient that so-called bodyguard can be. He’s been employed by me for a reason,” Rod pointed out.  
“Like covering up certain sins of yours, dear husband of mine?”  
Frieda winced, and took a seat next to Carolyn. “You really don’t want to be in the middle of their fights if you can help it,” she whispered to the older woman.  
“If it were my son, he’d been in court with me as the prosecutor before he could even blink,” Carolyn whispered back with a slight smirk.  
“Community service doesn’t do a damn thing, Rod. It’s a slap on the wrist. Be a decent father and punish the boy for his stupidity!” Greta cried, exasperated.  
“Three to six months is too long for a noble. He would be attacked or worse. He’s a target the longer he’s incarcerated,” Rod shot back. “If you care about having him come back from this alive to not make the same mistake twice, you’ll reconsider.”  
She shook as she stepped closer until the two were touching noses. “One month in prison under a false name. Anything less than that, and I will make sure the only place you end up sleeping is the couch.”  
Rod was silent, processing the options. “Carolyn, will that adequately appease the bar owner and those suing for damages, outside of the amount that we previously discussed?” he asked, not looking his wife in the eye.  
“I can even make them swear not to publish Urklyn’s name in the newspapers for any reason,” Carolyn assured. “They attempt to double-cross us, and they’ll be joining Urklyn in prison.”  
Rod nodded. “Make it so. We’ll use the name Wagner Cade for him.”  
Behind him, Frieda made a face that mirrored Urklyn’s. Wagner? Really? Creative, Father most certainly is not.  
Urklyn, on the other hand, thought differently. Wagner? Come on, Father! You named me “Urklyn” when you could have chosen Wagner!?  
“It’s a good name,” Carolyn commented, writing it down.  
“See, Rod? I know a thing or two about names,” Greta said.  
Oh. That makes more sense. Urklyn thought glumly.  
Carolyn took another long minute, scribbling down some other notes. “I think that about covers it. They’ll be transferring him to the prison later this evening then. Once that’s completed, I will be in touch with details on where and when you can visit him if you’re so inclined.” She stood and shook Rod’s hand.   
There was absolutely nothing Urklyn could do to protest this. Whatever his reasons were, he screwed up big time, and there was no way out of this mess. He opened his mouth to apologize, but he closed it. Right now, his mother didn’t want to hear it, his father was taken down a few pegs, and Frieda… he wasn’t sure where he stood. All he could do was take the punishment and work through it. After all, it was only a month in prison. Could’ve been a lot worse.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Just when you think things can’t possibly get any worse, they do, Urklyn thought as he gave a cursory look at the corridor he was being led down. The prison was not upkept at all, as evidenced by the horrendous smell of human waste and unwashed bodies. Rats and mice scattered as the light of the lantern came down the hall. Loud jeers about the “fresh blood come to join our ranks,” combined with expletives, came from nearly every cell that the guard led him past. The hallway lacked windows, adding to the feeling of despair that permeated everything.   
Stone and iron everywhere, barely any light, and the absence of the hygiene things he’d taken for granted. Certainly this had to be similar to areas of the Underground.   
The guard led them into the mess hall, and unshackled his wrists, leaving his ankle chains on. “Meal time lasts thirty minutes. I suggest you don’t dawdle or you’ll regret it.”  
Urklyn swallowed hard, the dryness of his throat making him wince.   
The food was served cafeteria-style, and the guard led him to the back of the line. While he waited for his turn, the young Reiss’s gaze swept over the room. There was diversity in here, more than he anticipated. Men older than his father, and some looking even as young as Abel were all seated, eating their meal, or what would pass for it. His nose wrinkled at mess of soup and.. Were those beans? The scent alone curdled his already-nauseated stomach.   
He took his tray and found a corner at a mostly empty table, and slowly took a mouthful of the lukewarm food. He forced himself to not make a face at the bland texture. The beans were still firm to the point of being nearly crunchy, and the soup had barely any flavor aside from the saltiness of the broth.  
“Ain’t what you’re used to, kid?” The sneer came from a burly man with a beard at the opposite corner of the table. “Get used to it. They ain’t feeding us steak and duck here.”  
Urklyn said nothing, choosing to take another bite of his meal instead.   
“You deaf, kid? I was talking to you,” the man grunted and stood up, walking his direction.  
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard anything that required a response,” Urklyn replied, looking down at his tray.   
“I don’t take kindly to being ignored, brat. Look at me, and answer me when I’m talkin’ to you, you got it?”   
“Tell you what.” Urklyn swallowed the lump that was called food down his throat and said, “Take your self-esteem and shove it up your ass first.”  
The man cracked his neck and set his tray down, grabbing Urklyn by the collar. “Listen here, dumbass. Nobody talks down to me. You got that? Especially not fresh-blooded little cockstains like you.”  
“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re the boss of this prison, right?” the young man asked, doing his best to keep calm under these wretched circumstances.  
“That’s right. A word from me, and I can make sure that your life here is a living hell. You won’t even be able to take a piss without having to watch your back.”  
“I don’t know. A guy watching me taking a piss sounds really lonely.”  
The man’s face got closer to his, foul breath pouring over Urklyn’s face. “You think you’re a wiseass huh? I wonder just how tough you’ll be acting when you’ve got a broken leg.”   
“That a fact?” Urklyn kicked the man so hard in the balls, he had a feeling he just made the guy infertile for life. As he slumped over, Urklyn wrapped his arm around his neck and pointed the fork at his face. “Which eye? Left or right?”  
The man groaned, and closed both. “You, you bastard... Who the hell are you, kid?”  
“Name’s Wagner, and let me tell you something, you rotten waste of flesh: I’m only gonna be here a short while, and you aren’t gonna make my time difficult for me. You try to send any goons after me, or you even put the soap in the wrong spot, I may not just take an eye. I might take one of your balls and feed it to you for dinner.”   
“U-understood,” the man nodded and limped away.  
Just then, the bell sounded, and the men lined up. The same guard as before returned to Urklyn, and led him down a narrow hallway lined with cells. “You’re rooming with Darius. Enjoy your stay,” he mocked as he undid the shackles and shoved him inside the cell. The jangle of keys reminded him that freedom was a mere thought now.  
The cell had no windows, and the once-whitewashed stone walls held no appeal. A toilet was on one wall, a metal bunk bed on the other, and a single desk with chair bolted on the floor were the only furniture in the room. A middle-aged, overweight man with thinning black hair lounged on the bottom bunk with a book. “You the new kid?”  
“Yeah,” he muttered, climbing up the ladder. “First day here and I already hate this shithole.”  
The man gave a snort. “Don’t we all. How long you in for?”  
“A month. Petty thievery, first offense,” Urklyn lied easily. “You?”  
“I got another 6 months, less if I keep my nose clean. I beat up a bastard who tried to steal from me,” Darius explained, disdain thick in his tone. “Asshole claimed I started it, Judge believed him, and I ended up in here for 2 years. Consider yourself lucky that you only got a month.”  
“Not really,” he replied. “I have to go back out there to pricks that have made my life miserable in a month.”  
“What’d you do to piss them off? Steal their girl or something?” the older man laughed.  
“It’s one of those, ‘I’d have to kill you if I told you,’ sort of things.” Urklyn let out a sigh. “Let me put it this way. The so-called boss that runs this prison? Amateur compared to the monsters I’ve had to deal with all my life.”  
Darius gave a low whistle. “You already had a run-in with Shawn then, I take it?”  
“Yeah. He acts tough, but my sister could break his arm in a second.”  
“Shit, is your sister taken? I’ve been looking for a hottie who can kick ass,” Darius quipped, only half-joking.  
Urklyn chuckled at the thought of Frieda going out with the guy. “Sorry. She’s into people my age, but she could probably give you a good recommendation.”  
“That’s the other issue…” Darius sighed. “Too fucking old, too fat, too boring. I’ve heard all the excuses you can think of. Well, shit. Maybe I’ll at least see if she’s got some idea, when we get outta here.”  
He let out a sad sigh and stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Can hardly wait.”

\---------------------------------------------------

“Wagner? You got someone here to see you. Claims he’s your Uncle… Joey was it?”  
Urklyn raised his eyebrows, closing his book as he stood up. “Lucky me, I guess.”   
He followed the guard towards a private visitation room. Like all the rooms within the prison, it was devoid of color, bars decorating the single window allowing in light from the outside world. A solid stone table with matching benches sat in the middle of the room with a lone occupant seated, waiting for the young man.   
The guard unshackled him, and gave him a none-too-gentle shove toward the table. “I’ll be outside. Holler when you’re done with him, Joey,” he said, closing the door firmly.  
“Hello… Uncle Joey,” Urklyn greeted with immense sarcasm.  
“Call me Uncle Joe, Wags,” Kenny responded with a smirk. “Joey ain’t good enough for my tombstone.”  
Urklyn snorted. “What are you doing here, Uncle?” he emphasized.  
“I can’t even visit my own nephew with a good reason.” He let out a sad sigh. “Kids today. So ungrateful towards family. Then again, your old man is Rod, so it’d be weird if you weren’t.”  
“We only have a 30 minute visit. Get to the point,” Urklyn crossed his arms, taking a seat across from the man. “You’ve never been one to ‘just visit’ and I don’t expect that to have changed over the last two weeks.”  
“Oh, look at that. Little Urkie trying to fit in his big-boy pants and act so tough.” He chuckled, allowing an unsettling grin to cross his face. “You fucked up big time, Urklyn. I’d have thought that being a spawn of the old man, you’d have a set of smarts, but you kept making mistake after mistake after mistake.”   
“I get your point. Thanks for rubbing it in, again,” he said sourly, turning away. A thought occurred to him and he turned back to glare him. “Actually, I have YOU to thank for this, don’t I? Florian just had to confide in dear Uncle Kenny, and then suddenly, my father knows EVERYTHING. So, it’s all your fucking fault that I’m in here!”  
His smile grew. “Now, now, if he knew everything, I’d be busy burying your body in the backyard.” He stood up from his chair, adjusting his hat a bit. “You see, Urklyn, we both know you want Rod out the picture, but you just had to pick the wrong bitch to ally yourself with: Corporal Kyler Hauer. You remember her, right?”   
“Don’t you dare speak her name, asshole,” Urklyn seethed. “You have no right to call her that.”  
“Hey, wise guy, you’re the one that shot her to save your own skin,” he reminded him with a stern gaze. “Gotta say, Urklyn. I’m impressed. There’s survival, and then there’s the stunt you pulled. Shooting your hopes and dreams in the head while spinning the story in your favor. It was one hell of a show you put on. And here’s a bonus for you: you did me a favor, too.”  
The younger man scowled at him. “And what favor would I possibly do for you, Kenny?” he asked coldly.  
“The beautiful corporal was dogging my heels ever since the day we met,” Kenny explained, walking over to him. “You gave away one of my prized hideouts, and she had been sniffing out every single clue I left behind. It makes a man feel good to be wanted, but she was getting very irritating. I could’ve just killed her anytime I wanted, but that would only make her a martyr of the Military Police. People would rally to the cause of avenging the woman who dared to take the fight to Kenny the Ripper. So, I had to go at it a different way.” He snapped his fingers in annoyance. “Shit, I don’t think you know.” He withdrew a small newspaper from his jacket and tossed it to him.  
It was open to a bolded headline that would mean the death of anyone’s reputation: Slain Corporal Convicted of Treason!  
Urklyn looked away in disgust. “Congratulations. You win. You just had to come and gloat, so you could lord my failures over me. Anything else you feel I should know, while you’re in such a generous, sharing mood?” he said irritably.  
“I do.” Kenny grabbed him by the collar and pressed him against the wall. “If you have a mind to try again, Urklyn, I suggest you keep my good name out of it. You think Rod is well connected? Ask your little brother about it.”  
“What does Dirk…?” Urklyn’s face scrunched in confusion, then realization dawned. “It was you?!”  
“Nothing personal against the kid. I told them they could only take one body part from him.” He chuckled again. “Should’ve known Dirk would make them choose his middle finger. He’s got quite a future in store for him, doesn’t he?”  
Urklyn’s fist connected with the man’s face, knocking his hat off from the force of the blow. “You bastard… how could you do that to him?! He’s done nothing to deserve this!” Angry tears streamed his face.  
“So what if he didn’t deserve it? Never stopped me before.” Kenny cupped a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming and kneed him in the gut so hard, he felt a rib or two crack. “Here’s the deal, Urklyn, and you’d better remember it this time: you want to take down Rod? Be my guest. Hell, I’ll let you borrow my gun to do him in, but if you so much as even hint about crossing me, your siblings are gonna lose far more than fingers when I’m through with them. You’ll wake up one day with a package at the door addressed to you. Open it up and there’s Abel’s head to greet you. Poor Dirk might be so traumatized by what he went through he might just decide to end it all and throw his body to the Titans. And Flo, sweet, little Flo… ever wonder what it sounds like when a bunch of horses trample over a child? How many bones crushed before the screaming stops?”  
Urklyn whimpered in pain but nodded, the message thoroughly delivered.   
“Believe me, Urkie,” he whispered, almost drooling at the morbid scenarios. “You can’t stop me. The only thing that’s gonna get me is old age, so be a good boy and don’t ruin my future. Or do it. What happens to your precious family is nothing compared to what I’ll do to you.” He released the young man, letting him drop to the floor. Seeing that he wasn’t getting up, he picked up his hat and dusted it off before putting it on. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my nieces need me.” With a grin that screamed malicious intent, Kenny walked out the door, leaving behind the broken man.  
Urklyn forced himself to stumble to his feet and made it as far as the bench before the guard came in to escort him back to the cell. His mind swirled, and he staggered from the pain in his ribs, grabbing onto the guard’s arm to keep from falling.   
“Easy, Wagner. I don’t swing that way,” the guard joked, pulling him up straighter. “The missus would have me castrated.”  
The walk back to the cell lasted longer than the young man remembered, and he was relieved to find that Darius was snoring loudly on his bed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. All for nothing. Everything he worked so hard to accomplish was spat in his face and ground into the dirt. He fell to his hands and knees before scrambling to the wall. There were no stopping the tears this time, no drinks to dull his senses, or pretty women to distract him. He was alone with his demons, who would never stop reminding him of the innocent blood that covered his hands. Any hope he once had was shattered. All that remained was the memory of his father’s approval and the hurt in Kyler Hauer’s eyes before he ended her life.


	20. The "Blessings" of Family

The usual bustle of the city streets was doubled, an excited buzz in the air. Founder’s Day was the following day, and people everywhere hurried to gather the last items needed for the celebrations. Elaborate braids of red, blue, and gold streamers began popping up on all the shops, and banners bearing the profile of Ymir atop a pattern decorated with the same colors graced various areas throughout the Walls.  
Greta hurried the girls along, impatient with Florian when she paused to gaze at an ornately decorated blush pink dress in the window of a textile shop. “We don’t have much time. We have much to finish still at home, and I refuse to keep your father waiting at the dinner table because we spent too much time shopping.”  
Florian gave a slight sigh, and Abel rolled her eyes but both followed Greta. Frieda had reached the carriage first and was admiring her reflection in the mirrored window.   
“Two more stops, and then we can head home,” Greta explained, settling into the seat, and pulling out her list. “Have you finished the shopping that you needed?”  
“Got everything, though some certain members of our family, won’t mention any names, tried to sneak a peek at what I was getting for other, certain people,” Abel responded, throwing a stern look at her little sister.  
Florian gave a slight eep and ducked her red face. “It was shiny, and I wanted to see what it might be. How was I supposed to know it was for me?”  
“Don’t play innocent with me. You knew damn well that I was gift shopping, you nosy brat,” she shot back, ruffling up her hair.  
“Hey, don’t mess up my hair! I don’t have time to have it done again before dinner!” Florian complained with a pout.  
Frieda giggled softly then turned her attention back out the window. “Mother, are we going to see Urklyn before we head home?”  
“The answer is still no, Frieda,” Greta answered without even glancing at her. “Your brother has less than a week left before he comes home. Until then, he will serve out his punishment.”  
The carriage grew quiet as Florian pondered her brother. The drunken, angry words still permeated her thoughts. Things about how horrible their father was, how she, somehow, screwed everything up for him even when she didn’t know how. Combine that with how terrified she felt due to his rage, she kept her silence from her parents and Kenny. She didn’t know who to go to, so this was the only choice. That being said, she still missed him, as evident by the words that broke the silence. “Founder’s Day won’t be the same without him.”  
“No, it won’t,” her mother admitted, “but that is how things are going to be. Don’t bring this up again. Any of you.”  
Frieda nodded but didn’t turn around. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for not being able to visit her brother while he was in prison, but Greta’s word was law. Their celebration with Urklyn would have to wait.  
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the book shop. “Frieda, go with Florian, please. I believe the two of you were the only ones who wished to make a purchase here,” Greta commanded.  
The young queen stepped down, and offered her baby sister a hand. “We won’t be long, Mother. I promise I will keep us on schedule.”  
It wasn’t the largest one in the capital, but it was one that didn’t have scores of people taking every book they could find. It was also the fourth one the group had come to, and Florian was determined to find the book she wanted. The minute they stepped inside, Florian dashed off to find a bookkeeper, leaving Frieda to wander the store alone. She skimmed the romance novels, rolling her eyes at the lack of creative titles. The history section was full of books she’d read, having a copy of most of them on her shelf at home. She paused in front of the books on relationship building and dating, a pained look crossing her face for a moment.  
“Oldest daughter in the Reiss family,” a young voice muttered to himself on the other side of the bookshelf. “Ends with ‘A.’ Come on, Marco, think!”  
Curiosity piqued, Frieda went around the corner, her eyes landing on the figure who was apparently stumped with his crossword puzzle. His black hair was flattened in such a way, it looked like a furry lid to his head. What surprised her were the freckles on his face. Not many people in the Walls had them, at least, the ones she had met. His attire was an unmarked military uniform. Given how young he was, it was safe to assume he was a cadet in the military. No one would be stupid enough to impersonate one.   
“‘Frieda’. The name you’re looking for is Frieda,” the young queen said with a slight smirk.   
The boy looked up, face red with embarrassment. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud. I can leave.” He closed the crossword book to do just that.  
“You weren’t being loud. I just tend to question when I hear my name being spoken,” she smiled disarmingly at the younger man. “You don’t have to leave in such a hurry.”  
“Y-Your name. You mean you’re--?” He stood up so quickly, his head hit a shelf. Unfortunately, he hit it so hard that it gave in, dislodging the entire row of books onto the floor. He was frozen with wide eyes and a dropped jaw as book after book fell.  
The bookkeeper, a middle-aged woman who showed some gray in her hairs, sighed with annoyance. “Mr. Bodt, please refrain from attacking my store.”  
The stuttering mess of a cadet frantically tried to grab the fallen literature. “I’m-I’m so sorry, ma’am. I--”  
“Please leave them there,” the woman interrupted sternly. “I’d like to keep this place in one piece. Just take your puzzle and walk CAREFULLY out of here while I’m in a good mood.” Shaking her head while muttering about how the gods had it in for her today, the bookkeeper went back to aide Florian with her quest.  
Frieda bit back a giggle. “I daresay that’s the first time I’ve had that effect on someone before.”  
Marco’s face went redder. “If Shadis hears about this, he’s gonna kick my ass off the Wall. N-Nice to meet you, Lady Reiss.”  
‘It’s pleasure to meet you as well, Marco, was it? You may call me Frieda. I don’t believe you need to worry about your commanding officer. He won’t be hearing anything from me. After all, accidents happen,” she shot him a wink.  
“Frieda! They have it!” Florian called excitedly from across the shop. “This nice lady is wrapping it up for me right now.”  
“Yes, please, yell to each other,” the bookkeeper said tiredly. “It’s not like this is a bookstore or anything. No, this is secretly a bar where you can break things and shout.”  
“I get the feeling she’s having a bad day,” Marco observed. “Maybe I can help her out with something.” He took one step and almost fell over. His eyes drifted down to see his foot was right on her books. With a sigh, he stepped back. “Maybe not.”  
Frieda chuckled and offered a hand to help him step around the mess he’d made. “I’ll make sure that she’s given some compensation for all of her trouble. She’s stressed from Founder’s Day as we all are.”   
“I’ve actually never been to the Capital for Founder’s Day before,” he admitted. “I’m from Wall Rose.”  
“Will you be at the public celebration tomorrow then?” Frieda asked. “They’ve asked me to speak on behalf of Wall Sina.”  
“You’re the one Sina selected?” His eyes brightened up. “I mean, someone as pretty as you would probably--.”  
“Mr. Bodt. Door. Walk. Now!”  
“Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Marco. Bye!” He dashed out of the store before he could embarrass himself further, break something else, or, in his case, both simultaneously. In his haste, he forgot his crossword puzzle. It just wasn’t his day.  
Frieda shook her head and gave a soft laugh as she met Florian by the register. “Allow me to offer you a bit of compensation for all of your trouble, ma’am,” she opened her wallet and gave the woman some money in addition to enough to cover Florian’s purchase.   
“Hey, I could’ve bought the book myself!” Florian protested. “It’s my gift that I’m buying--”  
“You can repay me when we return to the carriage. I think we’ve kept Mother and Abel waiting long enough,” the elder sister reminded her.  
The little sister sighed, but she didn’t complain further. This was going to be a special night tomorrow, and her gift would brighten up a special someone’s day.  
“Why are you doing this?” the bookkeeper wondered, surprised by the monetary gesture. “It’s my problem, not yours.”  
“Because as the Lady appointed to represent Wall Sina, it’s my duty to be gracious and supportive to all people. Happy Founder’s Day, and may the Goddess bless you,” Frieda replied simply then guided her sister to the waiting carriage outside.  
“Huh. Awfully nice for a Wall Worshipper,” the woman noted, watching them leave. 

\----------------------------------------------

Founders Day was celebrated publicly on the final day of the year. Various families chose to celebrate in different ways. For the Reiss family, they elected to plan their festivities privately for the evening prior to the public events, to eliminate the feeling of being rushed or the need to stay up later than was considered acceptable for the younger siblings. Upon the girls’ return from their shopping, an elaborate, multi-course dinner was enjoyed by all of the Reiss household, even Kenny joining in. Laughter and at times, a forced air of merriment continued throughout the meal and as the family moved to the living area for their exchange of “blessings”. These blessings were gifts that were given to family and occasionally close friends who joined in the celebration of the rich blessing that the Goddess had bestowed on them.   
Rubbing his hands together in an unusual sign of excitement, Dirk gleefully glanced at his father. “May I distribute the blessings this year, Father?”  
Rod, looking far more relaxed than he had been in a long time, nodded. “Go ahead, Dirk. Try not to tear open your blessing first this time.”  
Dirk’s face turned red. “That was once! I was 7, Father! I couldn’t help but be excited,” he protested.  
Beside him, Frieda and Abel shared a giggle. “Florian has done it too, Father. Don’t forget about that time when she was 5…”  
“Not funny,” Florian feigned a glare at her older sisters, but couldn’t keep it up. It was Founder’s Day! There was a lot of reason to smile, even if one of them was missing.  
Greta did a count of the gifts and she frowned. “We’re one short.” She already factored Urklyn’s disappearance into the scenario, but she couldn’t understand why there would still be a gift missing.  
“It’s probably the one that Urklyn had selected. I’ll run upstairs and look for it,” Abel volunteered, rising quickly. Her long dark-blue satin gown swished softly as she moved.  
“No,” Rod objected. “Urklyn will be coming back in two days. Whoever he has picked out will just have to wait until then.”  
Dirk finished handing out the gifts, eyes widening slightly when he realized that Abel was the only one without a gift. “Sorry, Abel,” he said sheepishly.  
Abel shrugged. “Guess that means that it’ll be worth waiting for, then, right?”  
Greta surveyed the room. “We’ll start with the youngest. Go ahead, Florian.”  
Excited, the baby of the family carefully opened her present. She didn’t want to tear into it either and be rendered infamous for the next two years or however long her siblings deemed. It was a small black box that she opened. Her eyes lit up as if the box itself was glowing. It was an ornate butterfly bracelet with diamonds and sapphires attached all over. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.  
“Happy Founder’s Day,” Abel piped up. “I was so afraid that you’d seen it, I was panicking with Mother in the carriage earlier.”  
“Oh, that’s what you were talking about yesterday,” Florian realized. “I thought you had a wardrobe malfunction.”  
Seeing as how Abel was the only one without a gift, Dirk was next up. His was a much larger box that was round. Confused, Dirk lifted off the top and he started cracking up. “A newsboy hat,” he announced, immediately putting on the black hat. “I feel inspired to throw newspapers at faces.”  
“You know, people have been shot for less,” Kenny warned with a smirk. “Might wanna reconsider that career move.”  
“Desperate to get rid of me that much, Uncle Kenny?” the boy joked.  
Kenny shrugged. “Well, one finger down. It’s a start.”   
Dirk responded by throwing the hat in his face. “Jackass.”  
“Aw, you’re hurting my feelings on Founder’s Day,” the bodyguard replied. “Almost makes me not wanna point out that you missed something in that box.”  
Curiously, he looked back in and lifted a four-inch boot knife that was still in its sheath. “Wow.”  
“Next time you get kidnapped, stab them with your own knife,” he advised. “It’s much more satisfying that way.”   
Greta opened her mouth, “I’m not sure weapons--”  
Rod cut her off. “There won’t be a next time, but I’m sure the gesture is appreciated. Thank him,” he commanded Dirk sternly.  
“Eh, lay off, Rod,” Kenny said with a wave of his hand. “I know he loves me.”  
“Next would be Urk… oh. Well, I guess it’s Frieda’s turn,” Abel piped up.   
The young queen opened the black jewel box in her lap. She gave a soft gasp in wonder at the ornate leaf-designed diamond circlet. Every inch or so around the band was a oval cut diamond that dangled delicately downward. A large teardrop sapphire was the focal point of the headpiece, falling in the center of the forehead when she placed it on her head. “It’s gorgeous,” Frieda said graciously.  
“Fitting for a queen, I hope,” Rod responded, a warm smile on his face.  
“Can Uncle Kenny go next?” Florian pleaded, giving the family no time to enjoy the circlet.  
“Well, Flo, you must've gotten me something really good,” Kenny commented. Even his smile didn't look as creepy as it usually did.  
“Only the best gift in the history of gifts,” Florian replied, excited.  
The Reiss family exchanged looks. If Florian was wrong, they would probably have to evacuate really fast.  
It didn't help matters that Kenny whipped out his trusty knife and tore open the wrapping paper. Rod guessed he only did it that way to screw with them. What was inside left the bodyguard, for the first time in his life, speechless. It was a heavy, brown book, but the second Dirk saw the title, he busted out laughing: Oedipus Rex.  
“Urklyn said it reminded him of you when he read it,” Florian explained innocently. It was the perfect gift.  
Frieda’s shoulders were shaking silently, and her left hand covered most of her face. Abel’s cheeks were rosy from hiding behind her hands as well, though her attempts at keeping quiet were failing miserably. Greta shook her head silently, at a complete loss for words. Rod looked to the ceiling and silently prayed that his family would survive the night.  
Were it anyone else, Kenny would know this was nothing more than a prank. Florian didn't have a mean bone in her body, meaning she really did believe he would like it. Slowly, he walked over to her and ruffled her hair. “I'll treasure it, Flo. In fact, I'd be more than happy to read it to you sometime.”  
Greta’s eyes widened in horror. “We’ll discuss that again when you’re older, Florian. That book isn’t appropriate for someone of your age,” she said quickly.  
“In that case, I can wait.” He gave Greta a wink.  
Rod cleared his throat loudly. “I think it's time for my wife to open her gift. Greta.” He gestured her to go ahead.  
“Hope you like it, Mother,” Dirk said sincerely.  
Kenny snorted. “Well, Frieda, looks like you got cheated on.”  
“SHUT UP, KENNY!” The chorus came from Frieda, Abel, Dirk, and Rod, of all people.   
“Huh? What was Uncle Kenny talking about?” Florian asked, perplexed.  
Dirk threw his “cherished” uncle a frozen smile. “I hate you.”  
He guffawed at that. “Founder's Day gets better and better each year.”  
Greta chose to ignore the family’s reactions and worked on opening up her own gift in an attempt to move on from the nonsense. The softness of the package surprised her and she pulled the paper away to reveal folded white fabric. Curious, she lifted the top piece, and saw that it was in fact a pair of fine cotton pillow cases. A beautiful green vine designed was stitched on the edge of both cases. Dotted along the vine were clusters of purple or red grapes. “Why, Dirk, these are lovely. Wherever did you find them?”  
Dirk’s ears turned red. “Actually, there’s a bit of a story there. You see--”  
“He found the plain pillowcases at a textile shop on one of our walks several weeks ago,” Abel interjected, flashing her brother a smile.  
“Plain? But these have such a beautiful embroidery on them,” Greta asked, refolding them on her lap.   
“I overheard you mention to Father about needing to replace the pillow cases since they were getting threadbare, and I wanted to do something special, so when we took our walk that afternoon, I bought the cases. Abel taught me how to do some stitching, and gave me a piece of fabric to practice on,” Dirk explained, the flush creeping over the rest of his face.   
“He was slow at first, but determined to do it himself. I taught him the stitches, and then gave him an example of the vines and grape clusters to practice off of,” Abel finished for him. “He didn’t have any help from me at all on the finished pillowcases.”  
Greta’s mouth fell open, and she clutched the fabric to her chest. “I shall cherish these. Thank you, Dirk,” she said as a pair of tears slipping from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She could only imagine the time and focus it had taken her younger son to complete them, especially after everything he’d been through. The thought and effort put into the gift was unique to Dirk, and something any mother would be proud of.  
Kenny, however, was having a field day with this. “So, the midget learns embroidery, huh? You sure you remember what’s between your legs, kid?”  
Dirk scowled at him. “Fuck you, Kenny.”  
“There’s no need for such talk on Founder’s Day,” Frieda cut in with a motherly tone.  
Rod’s turn had come, bringing the gift-giving to a close for the day. Greta had drawn her husband’s name, and the item he received was brought into the room by a maid. It was clear to all present that the maid carried a painting, based on shape and size alone. The family patriarch carefully opened the brown paper protecting it, and gave a satisfied smile when he saw the image on it. He turned the frame around to show the family.   
Depicted in lovely colors, Greta had commissioned a likeness of the entirety of the Reiss family. Rod and Greta were seated in the background, with Frieda taking the center of the portrait in a dark blue dress. Abel was on the left of Frieda, with Florian mirroring her posture on the right. Standing behind Rod was Urklyn, and Dirk was directly behind his mother. All of the siblings wore clothing in varying shades of blue, their parents both wearing black garments. All in the painting wore the smile befitting of the noble family they were.  
“I thought you might find space for it in your office, perhaps to take the focal point off that monstrosity you call a painting behind your desk,” Greta said, making no attempts to hide her disdain for the offensive portrait currently in her husband’s office.  
Rod eyed the massive portrait before glancing at his wife. It was a neutral look that betrayed no motive or plans. “Perhaps I can move that ‘monstrosity’ into the hallway instead.”   
Greta looked mortified. “That has no place in the view of anyone with any sense of morality. If any painting is to go in the hall, it will be the family portrait.”  
“Then that is where the family portrait shall go.” As per usual of family arguments, Rod was the victor.  
Florian and Abel exchanged a glance in the uncomfortable silence that fell. “When is Urklyn supposed to return Thursday?” Abel asked, changing the subject.  
“That morning,” Rod answered. “He will back with our family where he belongs.”  
“I bet he’s gonna swear off booze for the rest of his life,” Dirk said, shaking his head. “I mean, vomiting on the Commander of the Military Police?” He sounded almost impressed with him.  
Frieda shook her head. “That was unintentional. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if he does step away from some of the habits he was developing. They weren’t the wisest anyway.”  
Greta looked sternly at her children. “Let his actions and consequences be a lesson to all of you. Alcohol makes you stupid.”  
Several pairs of eyes darted to Kenny, waiting with bated breath.  
“What?” the bodyguard asked. “I don’t need to have a response to everything. I usually let the stupidity speak for itself.”  
While that statement sparked a wonderful argument between the matriarch of the family and the psychopath of the Walls, Florian simply watched in silence. Founder’s Day was supposed to be a day where despite everything that’s happened, people could come together, celebrate, and enjoy time with their families. Sure, there were moments of levity, but even she could feel the tension within the room. She began to wonder if Urklyn saw something the rest of them didn’t, something that led to his drunkenness. For once in her life, Florian grew a sinking feeling within her heart, and she didn’t know why.


	21. Resolutions

A week had passed since Urklyn’s rude awakening at Kenny’s hands. No other visitors had come. Hopelessness had settled itself in his chest, a heavy weight of despair that never went away. He went through the motions of daily life in the prison, such as it was. When his mind was idle, which was frequent, he tended to turn to books as an attempt to keep the dark thoughts at bay, to no avail. Darius attempted to keep his spirits lifted, but was often ignored by the younger man.  
“Wagner, your attorney wants to see you,” his guard said after opening the cell door.  
“My attorney?” Urklyn asked in surprise. “Hope she’s got good news for me,” he added cynically.  
“Just you get your ass up before I have to drag you out, smartass,” the guard said with annoyance.   
Urklyn rolled his eyes but dropped down off his bunk and joined the guard for the walk to the meeting rooms. This time they had him in a smaller room, not unlike one of the large closets at his house. There was very little space to move around, and a glorified desk with two chairs bolted to the floor filled the bleak, windowless room.   
Carolyn was already sitting in the chair opposite of his, though she didn’t have her briefcase with her. The first thing that came out of her mouth was, “You’ve lost some weight since we last saw each other.”  
“No surprise, given the slop they call food here,” Urklyn mumbled irritably. “Let me guess, they are extending my sentence to match the three months my mother wanted.”  
“No. You’re still being released in three days. She probably thinks you missing Founder’s Day as you lie in your cold cell without your family is the right motivation for you to get your act together,” she answered.  
“Well, that’s a relief. She’s made Abel go without food for a week until she wrote an apology letter, so it honestly wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch,” Urklyn sighed. “What are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be getting ready to spend Founder’s Day with your family? After all, Founder’s Day is tomorrow,” he bitterly commented.  
“Preparations have already been made. I came here to talk to you about certain things. The walls are soundproof, so we have complete privacy.” She put her hands together as she looked intently at the young man. “I know why you’re here, Urklyn, why you’re really here.”  
“Because petty theft wasn’t a legitimate enough reason for my mother to have me thrown in prison?” Urklyn snarked, looking away.  
“You’re a murderer,” she growled in a low tone. “Three people, to be exact. One of them was Corporal Kyler Hauer. Ring any bells? She was a good friend of mine.”  
The young man gulped, his blood chilling. “Yes. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about her,” he admitted, his eyes on his hands.  
“And now here you are, wallowing in your own self-pity moaning about how unfair life is.” Carolyn lost any sort of sympathetic edge she had and was going for the throat. “You want to talk unfair? Imagine being so close to finally making the biggest difference this country had ever seen in a century, and then a single coward screws it all up because he was trying to save his own skin.”  
Urklyn furrowed his brow, trying to follow her logic. “What are you referring to? I know I was the coward… Yet if I hadn’t twisted things the way I did, my body would be in the ground with theirs right now as well.”  
“Maybe you should be in the ground right now,” Carolyn said coldly. She breathed through her nose to calm herself down a bit. “But that would make four corpses, not three. Maybe you being alive means there’s still a chance after all.”  
And then it hit him, and he leaned back, his eyes flying to meet hers. “Wait. No, it can’t be… No fucking way.”  
“Took you long enough. Yes, the Restorer is my code name,” Carolyn confirmed.  
Urklyn gaped at her. There was no way. The Goddess wouldn’t allow something like this to happen to him. Hope was dead, wasn’t it?  
She rubbed her forehead as if she was trying to thwart a headache before standing up, pacing around the room. “I’ve been in these Walls for over forty-six years. Nearly half a century. The people in Wall Rose and Wall Maria had no idea the extent of how bad things really were. I see them for what they are: a cesspool of corruption. Nobles stuffing themselves like pigs while using the backs of downtrodden as their footstools. Officers sworn to keep order and peace when all they do is compete over who gets high first. The Scout Regiment believes the Titans are bad?” She scoffed as she stared down at the young man. “They haven’t seen the monsters we’ve seen, Urklyn. Every scumbag that gets put away, another takes his place. Twenty years, I’ve been fighting this hopeless battle, looking for something, ANYTHING, that can change this country for the better. And then, I discovered your father.”  
“And discovered what an upstanding citizen he is, right?” Urklyn shook his head. “I had a chance to take him down, and I blew it. I got careless and made one mistake. That’s all it took.”  
“If we’re going there, then I made the mistake by not checking Alder out more carefully,” Carolyn lamented.   
“You were keeping an eye on everyone, too?” This shouldn’t have surprised Urklyn yet it did. “You knew everything I was doing as well, didn’t you?”  
“Of course I did. You think Rod is the only one with a network around here? I didn’t just conscript nobles and officers to the cause. Even the homeless have a few spies here and there. Most of them go unnoticed, and I can tell you didn’t spare them a single glance. Otherwise, you might have figured it out sooner.” The lawyer shook her head. “Alder almost destroyed my entire network. If he had gotten my name, everything would be lost. Yes, Kyler and Mikkel are dead, but we’re still alive. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let the opportunity slide. But that still leaves the question: what am I going to do with you?”  
Urklyn gulped. “You have every right to make sure I never see the light of day again for my crimes,” he said in a low voice. “Whatever you see fit to do is only fair.”  
Carolyn gave him a look of disgust. “So, that’s it, then? That’s your only answer? ‘Do whatever I want?’”   
“What am I supposed to say?! I can’t take my father down, not now.”  
She slammed her hands on the table, gazing into his eyes sternly. “I’ve got three words for you, Urklyn: suck it up. You killed my friends to save your own skin. Quit moping in this cell, deal with the consequences, and move forward, or you can stay in your pitiful state until you finally succumb to your misery.”  
He closed his eyes and was quiet for a long moment. When he opened his eyes, he spoke with determination. “What do you need me to do?”  
“I want you to tell me what the hell is going on with your family,” she answered. “Kyler told me you were keeping secrets. If we’re going to make this work, I need to know everything.”  
“Define everything,” Urklyn deadpanned. “There’s more than a few skeletons in the closet.”  
“There’s something Rod has been protecting, but I can’t figure out what. I think you know what it is.”  
He blew out his breath. “Okay. So, first of all, I’m not sure how much you know about the ruling forces within the--”  
Carolyn sunk into her chair, looking very disappointed. “Urklyn… this is exactly what led to you being here in the first place. What if I was one of Rod’s agents? I could just walk over to your father and be like, ‘Hey, your loudmouth son just admitted your deepest, darkest secrets to me.’ I gave you nothing, Urklyn. You were about to give me everything. You know why? Because you’re desperate. You were so desperate, you made mistakes. Mistakes that blew up in your face.”   
He held his head in his hands. She was right. He was desperate. So desperate to take his father down, everything else was rendered obsolete when he should have gone slower. “I fucked up big time, didn’t I?” he said in a broken whisper.  
Carolyn let out a sigh. “You hate your father, don’t you?”  
“How could one not hate a man who exposed his child to unspeakable horrors at a young age?” Urklyn clenched his fist. “I have to take him down. Somehow. One way or another, the madness must come to an end.”  
“Urklyn, you can’t fight him by lashing out like an abused child,” Carolyn pointed out sympathetically. “You’re grasping at every possible straw that might mean his end. Honestly, it’s my fault that I put so much on you that I failed to consider your mindset. You’re not ready to fight him.”  
“But if I can’t fight him, then who will?”  
“You ask that question as if you are alone. Are you alone?”  
“Not anymore,” he said, a tinge of hope coming back to his voice. “Do you have anyone else, or is it the two of us against the massive force of Rod Reiss and his connections?”  
“Are you alone, Urklyn?” she repeated.  
He paused, then it dawned on him. His siblings. With the exception of maybe Frieda, he knew they would be on his side. At least, he hoped so. “No, I have my siblings,” he said aloud. “The eldest, Frieda. My brother, Dirk. And then the two youngest girls: Abel and Florian.”  
“You know what my biggest mistake was? I neglected my family.” She was downcast as she remembered those moments. “I was obsessed with taking the Reiss family down, I put that above my husband and son. Matthew, my husband, all but threatened me with divorce when he couldn’t take it anymore. It opened my eyes to what I’ve done, and what I’ve failed to do. So, I took some time take back up and remember what was truly important in my life.”  
Urklyn sighed. “I’ve been half-heartedly paying attention to them since everything started becoming intense. I ignored Dirk even after all he’s been through, I snapped at Florian apparently when I was drunk… Gods only know what Abel would have to say to me. I have a lot to make amends for.”  
“Then do it. If you love your brother and sisters, prove it,” she advised. “And when you’re ready to start again, you’ll know.”  
He nodded slowly, deep in thought. “Should I come to you when I reach that point? Where would I find you?”  
Carolyn smirked. “If you want to have a weapon made, pay a visit to the Yarckel District. There’s a forge with my name on it.”

\--------------------------------------------

Founder’s Day dawned clear yet cold. In the Interior, the day started early for those who lived and worked in the castle. The celebrations that unified all within the Walls was set to begin at 10am, and there was much to be done in preparation. Three representatives, one from each of the three Walls were chosen weeks in advance and told to prepare a speech to be shared with all of humanity. A podium for these speeches was set up at the top of the stairs that led into the castle’s main reception hall. Servants scurried left and right, polishing the floor and all public spaces for the throngs of nobles and the general populace set to converge upon the castle.  
Those belonging to the upper crust of society were invited to a private banquet with the king following the celebrations. For all the other people, the local eateries and various establishments had opened their doors and prepared for the influx of people. Some even offered a special discount to those who had traveled from the outlying districts or the refugees as an act of goodwill for sake of the people. After all, this was a day to celebrate their Founder, Ymir Fritz, who was known for her generosity and blessings to the people.   
In the Reiss household, the morning was far from relaxing. Greta was in her element, set on having her family appropriately dressed and to the castle with time to spare before the crowds began to gather. Frieda, of course, was the representative of Wall Sina, and therefore would be introduced as the eldest daughter to one of the most prominent noble families within the Walls. There could be no room for error, not today of all days.   
The young queen herself was not concerned by her mother’s fretting. She had her notes written out specifically to aid her in the speech that she was to be giving. She stood in front of her full-length mirror, and carefully applied her makeup, admiring her reflection. The floor-length, peacock blue, A-line dress with black fur trim and long sleeves was elegant and warm. It would hardly be proper for her to be shivering or covered in a shawl on such an occasion. The gold eyeshadow she dusted on her eyelids brought out the blue in her eyes, something that still slightly perplexed her. Ever since that day in the chapel, her eyes hadn’t returned to their previous shade of purple. Now purple was the secondary color, even in her Titan form. She shrugged off the trivial thought. After all, blue was their original color, before she took on the Holy Inheritance. She chose a soft pink lipstick, and blew a kiss at the mirror as she finished her preparations.   
“Oh, Frieda, you look so beautiful!” Florian gasped from the doorway, her sky blue dress swishing softly when she moved her hands to cover her mouth. “Every guy that sees you is going to fall head over heels in love with you immediately.”  
“As well they should! I mean, dang!” Abel flashed her elder sister a cheeky grin. “Just wait ‘til Dirk catches sight of you.”  
Frieda rolled her eyes in the mirror, touching up her blush. “Can’t you let that joke die already?”  
“Never. He won’t be able to escape it,” Abel snarked, adjusting the sparkly bodice on her own midnight blue dress. “We might let you off the hook since it wasn’t your fault.”  
“You’re too magnanimous,” sarcasm dripped from Frieda’s words. She shook her head and turned away from the mirror to face her sisters. “Is Mother still panicking about us being behind schedule?”  
“Did you have to ask?” Florian sighed. “I think she commented about my hair at least four times. And she had a conniption when Abel mentioned that her boots hadn’t been polished in the last two days.”  
“Oh boy. What did she say then?” Frieda asked, slipping a pair of teardrop diamond earrings into her earlobes, and handed Abel the matching necklace. “Can you assist me with this?”  
“She blew her lid, had me stand still for ten minutes while a maid polished every speck of dust out off my shoes. She redid my makeup too, saying it was too thick,” Abel mumbled as she clasped the necklace around her elder sister’s neck.  
Frieda turned to the mirror once more to adjust the placement of the necklace. “Thank you, Abel,” she said sincerely. “I hope she won’t find fault with the curls and soft updo that I chose for today.”  
The middle daughter rolled her eyes. “You’re Frieda, ‘carrier of the Holy Inheritance’. You can do no wrong in Mother’s eyes,” she grumbled.  
“That’s not true, and you know it, Abel,” Frieda scolded. “I have upset Mother and Father plenty of times. Remember that time whe--”  
“Please, can you not argue today?” Florian swiftly interjected. “We hardly need to give Mother another reason to chastise us.”  
Abel opened her mouth to respond, but Dirk appeared behind the girls at that moment. “Father’s got the carriages waiting. He sent me to get you, Frieda.”  
Frieda’s jaw dropped open, impressed with her little brother’s choice of style. “Look at you.”  
The Reiss men were dictated to wear their finest suits, and Dirk was no different. However, unlike their father, he knew how to make his suit look good. Smokey-gray suit with a black vest, it complemented the silver tie that would shine in the sun. His hands were ordained with white gloves, the left one slightly modified for his missing finger. He even had a black top hat tucked under his arm. “Sorry, ladies. It’s high time for the Walls to remember that the Reiss family also consists…” He flipped the hat onto his head. “...of handsome, eligible gentlemen.”  
Abel was the first to speak. “Well, shoot. There go my chances. Maybe you’ve got a better shot, Frieda?”  
Florian rolled her eyes. “Try those lines on the girls at the dance this evening, Dirk.”  
“We’ll see. For now, we have to go respect our elders and get downstairs,” he told them.  
The young queen gave the mirror a final glance and tucked her notes into a small black clutch with a wrist strap that she slipped over her slender hand. “I’ll see you at the celebration,” she said to her siblings and moved gracefully downstairs to the carriage.  
Within an hour, the majority of the residents that lived within the Walls had gathered into the castle courtyard and the surrounding streets, eagerly anticipating the celebration’s commencement. Even Commander Nile Dok seemed to be more relaxed, even when he had to keep chasing his two toddlers away from the refreshment tables. Sadly, no meat, but the fruits, vegetables, and soups smelled fresh, so that was good enough for the civilians.  
On the courtyard’s balcony, the “king” of Paradis, Fritz, strode out to meet his public. He was easily in his early seventies if his gray hairs and extremely wrinkled complexion was anything to go by, but his eyes had the light of a much younger man. His purple robes trimmed in white seemed to flow with the gentle breeze. It easily caught the attention of the public as their voices were hushed with a simple raise of his hand.  
“Huh, Gramps seems more lively than usual,” Abel whispered to Florian, who quickly elbowed her.  
“People of Paradis, I thank each and every one of you for coming here today,” Fritz began, his voice sounding like it hadn’t been used in a decade or so. “It is truly a good day that, despite the shortcomings we face in each of our lives, we are able to put them aside and remind us of this great country we live in and was founded on the principles that are the backbone of society.”  
The Reiss family inwardly prayed that Dirk’s new medication would not cause him to start heckling the old man like he did Frieda. They already had one son in prison; they did not need the other. Fortunately, the boy kept his silence, if his expression said exactly what he thought of those words.  
“Now, I suppose this would be the time I would give a glowing speech, but fortunately, we have three lovely ladies who are kind enough to help an old man.” He chuckled at his own joke that was joined by many others.  
Dirk was dying inside.  
“As per tradition, we shall begin with Wall Maria, but first, let us all have a moment of silence for the people that were lost to the scourge of the Titans and remember the sacrifices they made for this nation.”  
Everyone bowed their heads. Not a word was whispered, nor did a horse whinny for any reason. Even the Wall Maria citizens who were openly shedding tears were able to keep their composure to show their respects.  
Fritz cleared his throat to signal the end of the moment. “Now, then, our first lady is a young girl currently undergoing intense training in the 104th Cadet Corps. She has braved many trials and tribulations to get to this point for a twelve-year old girl, and we commend her for it. Please, give a warm welcome to Mikasa Ackerman.”  
The raven-haired girl stepped up to the podium, her eyes momentarily sweeping across the crowd. Catching sight of Dirk, they darkened for a flash which caused Dirk to take cover behind Abel. Only then did she go back to her neutral expression. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her red, knee-length dress in a sign of subtle nervousness. Florian silently admired the look of the puffed cap sleeves paired with the starched white collar of the dress. It was a simple, elegant look that suited the girl well.   
“People of the Walls, those who dwell within Wall Maria wish to offer our most sincere gratitude for the care and kindness we have received this last year. While it does not negate the losses we have suffered, our people are the better for the kindnesses we’ve received,” she spoke slowly, showing very little emotion on her face. “Thanks to your generosity, we are working on acclimating to our new circumstances of life. Those in the regions that have been fortunate enough to remain free of the Titans have begun to return to a sense of normalcy. And for those of us who have brought with Wall Rose and Wall Sina, we have been welcomed with open arms and hearts by the good people within.” She forced a small smile onto her face. “We look to the future with hope that we can reclaim Wall Maria fully and restore peace and prosperity to all regions within the Walls. Thank you.”  
There was a magnificent round of applause, as well as a girl who swiped a small loaf of bread from the stands shouting, “We love you, Mikasa! WHOO!!”   
Once the commotion died down, Fritz spoke again. “Our next lady was quite difficult to narrow down. There were many great females to go through. However, we came to realize that the best candidate would be someone teaching our youth the good and the bad of our history, a woman who has no hesitation in telling the truth. Give a round of applause for Professor Beatrice Stadler.”  
A woman in her early twenties stepped to the podium, her sharp blue eyes missing nothing. She had golden hair that was wrapped in a braided updo with a large red rose clip behind her right ear, keeping the hair in place. Her dress was a more formal ball gown style, in black, with a red petticoat peeking from underneath. A simple gold embroidery ordained the top of the bodice and the bottom hem of her skirt. Florian thought she looked like a princess.  
“What is she, a history professor, or the model for yesterday's fashion?” Dirk muttered, shaking his head at the outfit.  
“Humanity. What a powerful word to describe the thousands of souls contained within these Walls. On this, our Founder’s Day, we gather to celebrate the diversity within our people. Represented, we have those from Maria, Rose, and Sina. Each one bears the name of one of our Founder, Ymir Fritz’ daughters,” Beatrice spoke with the noble air of one who was accustomed to receiving attention when she gave a lesson. Not a sound was heard from the crowds as she continued. “Karl Fritz, the descendant of Ymir Fritz had the Walls erected as a way to protect humanity. The first name and Wall that was built was Maria, named after Ymir’s eldest. History recounts how, like her mother, Maria was known for her determination, her kindness, and her desire to protect her younger sisters.. It’s only fitting that her name be carried on in the legacy of protecting her people. Those who live within Wall Maria, know that you are no less due to being in the outlying areas. No, you carry the strongest burden of us all, and we commend you for that.”  
A hesitant clap began from the back of the group, and spread through all those gathered. As the clapping died down, the professor continued. “Rose. The middle daughter. Unlike her sisters, she preferred quiet time spent reading and in reflection. My kind of girl,” she chuckled. “From her, we see a quiet strength, and an admiration for things of beauty. Within Wall Rose, we see many of our artisans and our scholars, as well as the industries that provide us many of our resources to sustain our existence. To our brothers and sisters who call Wall Rose their home, we thank you for providing humanity a beautiful, culturally-rich heritage.”   
Amidst the applause, Dirk leaned over to Abel. “Well, I certainly feel like we’re getting an abbreviated lecture.”  
Abel snorted. “I doubt I could stay awake through a full lecture.”  
“And finally, Wall Sina. Sina, the baby of the family. She was vivacious, and despite her being the youngest, she displayed commendable leadership qualities and an insightfulness that’s to be marveled over. Nothing slipped past her keen eyes. For those who call the Interior within Wall Sina home, we thank you for your leadership, your influence, and your poise in the face of the current circumstances facing humanity. Both you and Rose have welcomed in the refugees from Maria and offered a sense of home for them. Your kindness will not be forgotten. Ymir would be quite pleased to see how humanity has come together in the midst of this tragedy. Today, we are stronger. We come together and remember the past. We reflect on the present and what we have to be thankful for. And we look to the future, knowing that we have triumphed over the all that has come before. Knowing this, we shall prevail. We are humanity! Thank you.” She stepped back from the podium with a satisfied grin.  
One could not tell whether the applause was out of satisfaction of the speech or relief from the speech reaching its conclusion.  
“And finally, we have our lovely representative Wall Sina,” Fritz announced. “She embodies the the core of what we all strive to be: compassionate, merciful, and strong. I can think of no other woman that best qualifies than our very own Frieda Reiss.”  
Abel rolled her eyes. “Let’s just hope that her speech here isn’t nearly as dull as her sermons have been,” she whispered to Dirk, who nodded in agreement.  
Once the thunderous applause died down, Frieda strode to the podium and gazed at the people. Her people. To them, she was just a noble giving a speech, but to her, she felt the weight of being in command of an entire nation for the first time. It was daunting to the point she realized she was hesitating. Clearing her throat, she began. “I’m going to pick off a bit from where Professor Stadler left off. Over a hundred years have passed since the day Ymir Fritz founded this land. So much has changed since then, yet some things remain the same. It’s always been the order of our humanity.”   
The secret queen felt herself at a loss for words right then and there. No one could hear the words of her younger brother echoing in her mind louder than the Inheritance could speak. What do her people really think? What do they believe in? Basking in the praise and adoration of her fellow nobles gave her the biggest clues of what humans were: arrogant, self-righteous pigs that deserved whatever punishments awaited them. And yet, in the audience, she could see the rags that passed for clothes worn by some families who looked like they begged for their meals in order to survive. A couple of Scouts of the Survey Corps missing body parts when they went up against the Titans that threatened their entire existence. The expectant and hopeful looks of the cadets that carried the future of…   
Her blue eyes stopped on a green-eyed cadet nearby, looking as disgruntled as a thunderstorm. His countenance reminded her of someone she knew, yet she couldn’t place. When his eyes met hers, even from a distance, she could see the absolute disdain and revulsion he had for her. Who are you?  
“Lady Reiss?”  
Frieda gasped, glancing over at her personal bodyguard. “It’s… it’s alright.” Her throat was dry, forcing her to clear it again. “Forgive me. Public speaking is not my strong suit as my brothers and sisters would like to boast.”  
Florian looked at Abel in alarm. “What’s wrong with Frieda? She’s never stopped in the middle of a speech like this.”  
Abel shrugged, looking as confused as the rest of the crowd. “I don’t know. She spent hours memorizing it, so I’m not sure why she hasn’t pulled out her notes if she needed a refresher.”  
“Normally, this is where I would pull out my notes and use them when my memories fail me… but I can’t do that.” A sorrowful look distorted her features. “To do so would make me blind to the here and now. I can say the nicest, kindest words to lift the spirits of those fallen on hard times, but it doesn’t change those hard times, do they? Words can’t bring back limbs. They can’t bring back homes. They can’t bring back lives of loved ones that were gone too soon.”  
Dirk’s jaw dropped open. Where the hell was this coming from?  
“It is so easy to focus on yourself, to worry yourself over what dress to wear for this occasion, memorize lines that you know will be the right things to say. Sometimes, it’s all you can think about and before you know it, the world changes without you. The ones you love dearly are changed for good or for bad, and the people you’ve ignored for so long are finally on your doorstep. What do you do then? Stay selfish and remain in the only place you know, or do you finally open your eyes and stretch your hands out to them?” She paused, her eyes sweeping across her people. “Founder’s Day is more than a chance to gather with our families. What better time is there for us to pause and remember where we came from, and what our Founder stood for? Our world may be full of tribulations and monsters, but recognize the good that can come from the midst of adversity. The light of hope that all this destruction won’t break us. We are humanity! We are strong, courageous, and compassionate. Let that knowledge spur you into loving your fellow man and following the example left for us by our Founder, Ymir Fritz. Without these things…” She clenched her fist despite no one being able to see it. “There’s too much corruption in these Walls. Our souls are all that’s left. Thank you.”   
The silence she received was deafening, as if she managed to turned all her people to stone. Considering the power she contained, it wasn’t too far of a stretch to think of that as a possibility. They all stared at the secret queen transfixed, practically in a trance. It was broken by one man’s applause. A few more joined in, and within seconds, the loud cheers sounded greater than any war cry that could be uttered. Frieda could not move away. Never in her life had she received such responses, even after doing so many sermons these past five and a half years. It was far more intoxicating than anything the Inheritance had ever produced for her, and she didn’t want it to go away.

\----------------------------------

Dawn had arrived for the year 848. For many, it was like any other day. Others saw it as a grim reminder that they were getting old seeing the years go by. For the Reiss family, it was a day of elation. The siblings wanted desperately to go meet their brother outside the prison gates, but they couldn’t risk blowing his cover. So, instead, they sat in the living room with their parents patiently waiting for the carriage to bring him home. Breakfast had already been prepared, though none of the family dared touch it without Urklyn. It was the least they could do for him.  
Florian’s ears perked up when she heard the clopping of the horses. “He’s here!” she shouted, shooting to her feet. Unfortunately, when she ran for the door, she tripped over the rug and managed to crash into one of the end tables, sending its contents clattering to the ground. “Ow…”  
“Watch it, Florian. You’re acting as clumsy as Dirk now,” Abel quipped, shooting her brother a grin.  
He rolled his eyes in mock-annoyance. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of the cripple, why don’t you?”  
The air in the room seemed to change with his remark. He didn’t have the same light tone he used to have when making jokes at his own expenses. Abel didn’t say anything more, kneeling to help her sister pick up the items that cluttered the carpet.  
The arriving horses grew louder, prompting Rod to stand from his chair. “Girls, leave it there. We can pick it up later. For now, let’s welcome your brother home.”  
Greta nodded in agreement, though she knelt to Florian. “Sweetheart, are you going to be okay?”  
“I’m okay, Mother,” the youngest daughter assured. “Really. I still love him.”  
Abel was the first to the door, with Frieda right behind her. Neither of the young women hesitated in the slightest, racing outside to their brother, who was stepping down from the carriage. He was wearing the clothes he’d been wearing on the night of his drunken breakdown and brawl, the shirt stained by ale and smelling faintly of vomit. This didn’t deter his sisters from wrapping him in a hug that nearly knocked him over. Dirk followed them outside, with Florian several steps behind him. Rod and Greta brought up the rear, allowing their children to reunite with Urklyn first.  
“I’m sorry,” Urklyn whispered, tears cascading down his face. “I’m so sorry.” His knees buckled under the strain of his shame.   
Frieda and Abel eased him to the ground slowly, their arms not leaving him. “It’s okay. You’re home now. That’s all that matters,” Frieda whispered in his ear.   
Dirk came up behind his brother, and joined the hug. “I missed you, Urklyn. Too much damn estrogen when you’re not around,” he joked, his voice cracking.  
“You missed Founder’s Day. You owe me for that,” Abel said, tears running down her own face.  
“I’ll make it up to you, Abel,” Urklyn said weakly. “I’m sorry.”  
Abel snorted, then gripped him tighter. “You’re more important than any gift.”  
Florian joined in last, slightly hesitating, but wrapping her arms around Abel and Dirk’s to join the embrace. “Welcome home,” she said simply.  
Nothing else mattered anymore. He was home.


	22. Moving Forward

“Well done. That should be enough training for today. Your mother has dinner scheduled for seven, so you’ve got two hours to bathe and freshen up for dinner. You’re earned it.” The admiration he had for her continued growing skills showed in her father’s voice.   
Frieda wiped the sweat that threatened to drip into her eyes away with a towel. “Thank you, Father. I’ll see you at dinner,” she replied, making her way to the bathhouse. She instructed the maid waiting by the door to fetch her a suitable outfit for dinner and place it with her towels.  
As the young queen slowly undressed and made her way into the bath, her thoughts swirled. Nearly a month had passed since Founder’s Day and her speech. Urklyn was home and things were settling into a sense of normalcy. And yet, she had a growing sense of dissatisfaction. All the meetings with her father and the nobles, the trainings both in human and Titan form; something was missing. It didn’t feel like enough.   
She sank into the water, allowing the heat and steam to relax her muscles. She always enjoyed the tranquility of this bathhouse along with being alone as her troubles were left outside where they belonged. Unfortunately, like things had been for the past month, it was not the case. She was certain that if anyone else said the things she did on Founder’s Day, they would be imprisoned or executed swiftly without a second thought, which is why it was a blessing she was the Queen.   
As Frieda scrubbed her body with soap, the consuming thought came back to the forefront of her mind, the one that refused to leave her alone: stop hiding in the shadows and take the throne that rightfully belonged to her. It would be the easiest cover story in the world to replace the old man with a much younger woman. Thank the Goddess grandchildren were a thing here.   
Only a few stumbling blocks stood in her way. Several unanswered questions. As the ruling queen, what could be done for her people? And what would the reactions be to her taking the throne? She knew that her family would be elated, especially her father. No longer would they need to hide in the shadows of the false king. They would be acknowledged for the royal bloodline they carried. But for those who were outside the family… would the nobility respect her family or would this cause them to be placed more at risk? Frieda was fairly confident in both. And what of the artisans and merchants? Would they even care in the change of leadership? For that matter, what of the refugees? They likely wouldn’t have much to say, so long as they were still be provided with the food and shelter they so desperately needed.   
She gave an unladylike snort as a thought occurred to her. There would likely be an outcry, claiming that she was ill-suited and unprepared for such a position due to merely being the daughter of a noble family. Fortunately, she had her father to thank for her state of preparedness. She’d been by his side in all of the meetings he had facilitated with the nobles. It was her decision that had sent the people back into Wall Maria. She was equipped to make the challenging choices. What was she still waiting for?  
And then it struck her. The duties of being a queen, and the expectations that would come with taking the throne at such a young age, compared to the old man who’d clung to it for so long. She would be expected to marry within a reasonably short period of time, and start bearing children, to carry on the royal bloodline, in addition to the other responsibilities of being the ruler of humanity. Her freedom, the ability to go and do as she pleased when she wished to would be drastically reduced as well. She sank lower in the water as she realized that even her time in the baths would likely be rendered more infrequent. Would such sacrifices be worth it?   
As she mulled over the expectations that would surely come of being queen publicly, Nate came back to mind, as he often did whenever anything regarding romance or marriage were concerned. She couldn’t help the pang of sadness and guilt that settled in her chest. She had never wanted to kill him. In that sense, the abilities that came with the Coordinate were sobering. She would be forced to be calculating and cautious every time she utilized the power that she had on someone’s mind, more so than she ever had to before. Repeatedly, she had been asked to move on and begin seeing suitors again, but she kept pushing it off, unwilling to come to grips with the fact that she would spending time with men that certainly would not be as handsome, or as pleasant as her first love had been.  
Giving a sigh, she pushed the sad thoughts aside. She needed to make a decision. She was beginning to lose sleep, and was consumed by these thoughts in all of her waking hours. The desire to be the publicly ruling queen certainly was there. If it meant making some changes to her lifestyle for the sake of being in the public eye, she supposed she would learn to adjust. At the end of the day, despite all of the struggles she was certain she would face, she longed to be queen. And who’s to say that she wouldn’t be able to make some changes to the ways things were run once she was in that position of power? After all, what point was there in being queen if she couldn’t reap the benefits of her position?  
Her mind now made up, Frieda arose from the bath and began to dry herself. She would broach the subject at dinner with the family. For now, she stepped over to the mirror beside the bench, gazing at her reflection as she squeezed the water from her hair with the towel. She cast the damp cloth aside and reached for the comb, running it through her dark locks of hair. She greatly enjoyed getting herself cleaned up and ready in front of the mirror. After all, if others could enjoy how she looked, why shouldn’t she take the opportunities to do the same when she had the chance?   
She slipped on her panties and grudgingly hooked the clean bra on, adjusting herself in front of the mirror, turning to the side to verify that her figure remained slender, curves only at her breasts and hips. It wouldn’t do for her to become a fat pig like so many of the nobles tended towards. Picking up her dress, she slid the lavender fabric over her head, and adjusted the tie at the waist. Of all of her wrap dresses, the soft purple one was definitely her favorite. She made several kissing faces at the mirror in different angles, then slid her feet into her sandals and made her way to the main house for dinner.

\--------------------------------------

“So, Florian, read any good books recently?” Urklyn teased his baby sister. “Like, perhaps, Oedipus Rex?”  
Florian scowled at her brother. “That’s not funny, Urklyn. Mother still won’t let me read it, and I don’t understand what all the fuss is about,” she protested.   
“Urklyn, leave your sister alone,” Greta scolded, passing the platter of duck toward the middle of the table.   
Dinner was off to a decent start, the only real “argument” coming from Abel and Dirk on who would get the first scoop of roasted potatoes. A silent glare from Rod ended that discussion in its tracks.  
Urklyn was in a very good mood today, no matter how this dinner would end. He woke up this morning to the best news he had in a long time printed on a newspaper: Marleen Company Crumbles Amidst the Death of the President’s Daughter. Around 9:47 PM on Tuesday, a young woman was found dumped in an alleyway within the Stohess District. She was quickly identified as Carly Stratmann, daughter of Elliott Stratmann, the president of the Marleen Trading Company. Autopsy reports reveal that her throat was slit from behind, the same M.O. as the dreaded Kenny the Ripper’s tactics. Reasons are unclear as to… By then, Urklyn didn’t care. The bitch was dead, and that would be the only thing he would thank Kenny for.  
Frieda waited for a moment until she was sure that it would be a good time for a topic change before she dropped her bombshell. Smiling, she looked at her parents, “Father. Mother. I’ve decided that I would like to take the throne as queen. Publicly.”  
The entire family froze, six pairs of eyes locking onto hers in a heartbeat. Obviously, they didn’t expect such a declaration today… or ever.  
Greta was the first to break the silence with a clear of her throat. “Dear, that’s… that’s quite the announcement.”  
“Why do you want to be queen?” Florian asked, setting her fork on her plate. “You’re already helping Father. Isn’t that enough?”  
“No, it’s not,” Frieda replied immediately. “We’ve been living in the shadows of the fake king for our entire lives’. The people have grown tired of him. What better way to serve the people than to have a young ruler take the throne?”  
“Hah!” Abel cut in with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, Giant Sis. You just want more people to boss around outside of us.”  
Frieda shot her a dark look. “That’s not the reason, and you know that.”  
“I don’t get it,” Dirk admitted, pushing around his potatoes with a fork. “I’d hate to have that job, you know. The entire world rests on your shoulders, and you’re expected not to screw up. I like being normal.”  
“Dirk, you’ve never been normal a day in your life,” Urklyn told him. “Besides, Frieda isn’t gonna be ruling alone. We have a council of nobles for a reason.”  
“You mean those old men who whine about how difficult it is to carry all their money around on a daily basis?” Abel asked. “Come on. That council’s full of shit.”  
“Abel. Watch your language, young lady. Such talk is uncouth,” Greta scolded.  
“She can always rely on us,” Dirk suggested. “I mean, we are family.”  
“Right, because the Reiss family is famous for our clever thinking skills,” Abel drawled. “Urklyn could teach Frieda how to make a drunken ass of herself. Dirk could… are royal jesters still a thing?”  
”Abel could enlighten Frieda of the many ways she’s going to wash her mouth out with soap every fifteen minutes,” Urklyn retaliated.   
“What about me?” Florian piped up.  
“Uh… teaching her how to sit still and look pretty,” he answered.  
“But she’s already good at that,” Florian assured.  
Frieda rolled her eyes. “You’re just making fun of me, aren’t you?”  
“Enough, all of you,” Greta ordered, staring at her eldest child. “Frieda, I know how important this is to you, but to take the throne now… you aren’t ready. There is still so much to be done first.”  
“Like what, Mother? I assure you, this is not a snap decision that I’ve reached. I’ve spent a great deal of time and thought on this,” Frieda replied, returning her mother’s gaze.  
“Is that so? Have you chosen to search for more suitors?” she questioned, crossing her arms.  
“Mother, not everyone wants to succumb to the imaginary, patriarchal society you live in,” Abel said.  
“Don’t. Test. Me. Abel,” Greta warned with a furious look. “Family is the most important thing in a royal family, to carry on our bloodline.”  
Frieda shook her head. “It’s a bridge that we can cross after I take the crown. It doesn’t need to be a prerequisite to becoming the crowned queen of all humanity.”  
“But it will be very convenient for you when you ascend to the throne,” she shot back. “Frieda, I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”  
Oh, no. Dirk thought as he inched away from his sister. Having supported his sister during the suitor catastrophes, as Frieda aptly named them, he knew what was coming. Hopefully, she wouldn’t blow up the house.  
“And what am I trying to do, Mother?” Frieda enunciated, her tone clipped as she fought to restrain her growing anger.  
“You’re constantly dodging this issue as if you’re a young teenager. You are a twenty-year-old woman and yet you don’t have the maturity to move on from that--.”  
“GRETA!” Rod had been quiet this whole time, but damage control was absolutely necessary. Whatever their feelings were about the whole thing concerning Nate, it wasn’t worth sending their daughter, their God, over the edge.  
“Go to hell, Mother,” Frieda seethed, shoving her chair back from the table and storming out.   
Urklyn sat silently, unsure if he should try to follow or give his sister the chance to calm down. Knowing her temper, the latter was probably the safer option at this particular moment.  
Their mother couldn’t find the words to say. Never in her life had Frieda said such a vulgar thing to her. Though, amidst her shock, she did feel a pang of guilt for bringing up Nate in such a crude manner. That being said, it further confirmed in her mind that Frieda wasn’t ready for the throne.  
“So… dessert?” Abel suggested.

\------------------------------------

Frieda wasn’t sure what exactly her original plan after leaving the house had been, but that didn’t change the fact that she was now in one of the nicer taverns within Wall Rose in the Karanes District. After everything that had transpired with her family, she wanted as much distance between herself and home as she could manage for the remainder of the evening. She had a glass of red wine in hand and presently was enjoying the din of laughter and clinking glasses. She took a long swallow of her wine, the indignation and frustration at her mother finally waning as the relaxing effect of the alcohol took hold. She spun on her stool and crossed her ankles, watching the people enjoying their various liquors. In the corner, several musicians played music that encouraged dancing, and a fair number of people were doing just that.  
However, her eyes landed on two Scouts at the far end of bar that seemed to be more concerned with business than pleasure. Their hoods were down, so she could see one with blonde hair and the other with dark brown hair. They spoke in hushed whispers as one of the bartenders handed them a small bag, prompting her eyes to narrow immediately. Even among the Scouts, drug deals were taking place.  
Frieda took another sip of her wine and nonchalantly headed in their direction. “I didn’t think members of the Survey Corps would be so open about their misdeeds,” she said by way of introduction as she stopped by their table, wine glass still in hand.  
The two men promptly glanced up and behind them, not expecting her, of all people, to be in a bar. The brown-haired man had eyes that matched his hair and a more circular head, while the blond-haired man had deeper, chocolate-brown eyes and more chiseled features to shape his head.  
The brown-haired man opened up with an annoyed sigh. “Every freaking time we do this, it’s always the same thing.”  
Frieda lifted her eyebrows at the comment. “So, you do this fairly frequently then? My, my. Sounds like I should be having a discussion with your commanding officers.,” she replied, a hint of amusement in her tone.  
Blond Man let out a snort. “Typical noble trash. Enjoying your self-righteous throne and thinking the worst of people beneath you.” He opened the bag, revealing the contents that smelled very familiar. “It’s tea, lady. Now, get lost.”   
Said noble rolled her eyes. “If it’s tea, then why the hell were you whispering over it? This isn’t a tea party, last I checked.” She glanced up and scanned the room for effect. “Nope, definitely not a tea party.”  
“Congratulations. You can see.” The brown-haired man stood up. “Let’s go, Eld.”  
The man known as Eld wasn’t done. “Want some advice?” He pointed to the back room. “Shitter’s in the back. Stick your nose over there.”   
She narrowed her eyes at the pair. “I was merely looking for some amusement and an explanation. There’s no need for the dismissive tone. But have it your way. I can see we have the finest of gentlemen crusading on for the future of humanity.”   
“You don’t want explanations, lady,” Eld growled as he stood up. “You just want to act like some virtuous noble and make yourself look good in front of your peers. Well, guess what? No one here is buying it.” The bar grew uncomfortably silent as the Scout continued to rail against her. “Out there, we’re killing Titans so that you can sleep soundly in your Interior beds. Half the people here lost family members to those monsters, so if you’re so offended that I couldn’t give a damn about your hurt feelings, suck it up because that’s reality. Live in it!” He stormed out of the bar, slamming the door shut behind him.  
Frieda’s eyes landed on the brown hair man still standing at the table. “Do you share that same opinion?” she asked bitterly. “Is that really all people see when they look at me?”  
“We aren’t as fortunate as you,” he said with a shake of his head. “But today hasn’t been a good day for Eld. You just poked a few wounds of his.”  
Frieda sat heavily in the vacated seat Eld had left. “From one disaster to the next, I suppose,” she sighed. “My apologies. I sincerely didn’t intend to ruin your evening like I have.”  
“Look, nobles get a bad reputation around here,” the man explained, sitting across from her. “Merchants barely respect you guys as it is.”  
The young queen took a long swallow of wine from her glass and set it down on the table in front of her. “If I’m going to get a full dose of reality, hit me with it. I fear that growing up in the Interior as the eldest daughter of the Reiss family has done little to keep me educated in what public opinion is from the outer Walls. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to continue sharing.”  
“I’ve got some time. What do you want to know?” he asked, the bar returning back to its normal state.  
Frieda flashed a small smile. “How about we start with your name, and what district you’re from, then continue with the opinions that various people groups hold the nobles under.”  
“Gunther Schultz from the Utopia District,” he answered. “I swear it’s like all the cold gets combined in that one district.”  
“It does get rather cold, from my limited experience. I used to be close to a young man from the Utopia District,” Frieda replied, her eyes dropping slightly. “What brought you into the Survey Corps?”  
Gunther let out a sigh as he fiddled with an empty glass. “Some of my relatives lived in Shiganshina when the Titans got in. They didn’t make it and I wanted revenge. Still do, but my captain told me that it’s a useless errand when I got into the Recon Corps.”   
The young woman snorted. “One almost needs to have a list to keep track of all the different names they have for your particular branch of the military. I always wondered why they didn’t choose one, or even possibly two and utilize those exclusively.”  
He shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. It’s been like that long before I enlisted.”  
“Let me ask you this, Gunther.” Frieda leaned forward, focusing on the man in front of her. “What’s the general opinion of those who live within Utopia, as it relates to the nobility, as well as the king? And do you share that opinion?”  
“Wall Rose is a mixed bag,” he explained. “Some of the people here are able to rise into Wall Sina and live a more prosperous life. Others are stuck in this territory for the rest of their lives wondering if the Titans are gonna break through here. Wall Maria refugees, on the other hand, hope you all burn in Hell.”  
Frieda leaned back and closed her eyes, thinking for a long moment. “I can’t fault them for that. Not after the breach in Shiganshina, and everything that happened with the attempts to reclaim Wall Maria. But you neglected the last part of my question.”  
“Well, you interrupted me,” Gunther said offhandedly. “And I think you’re smart enough to know that the ‘reclamation attempt’ was the government solving the food shortage.”  
The young queen nodded. “It was. It’s something that a good handful of the nobles were privy to prior to it actually happening. That didn’t make it any easier to hear about.”  
“Hmm.” He wasn’t sure if that was really the case, but for now, he would try to be nice. “I don’t like nobles, but you don’t seem so bad. You have some of their bad habits, though.”  
That caught Frieda’s attention. “What do you mean?”  
He raised an eyebrow. “Strutting over here with smug superiority for one thing.”  
“Oh… that.” She looked slightly sheepish. “I honestly was curious what two Scouts were doing, with what appeared to be some sort of drug deal, in a tavern, when it’s not even that late yet. What else, dare I ask?”  
“Formal speech, for another,” Gunther went on. “Over here, that’s a dead giveaway. And, of course, sticking your head into other people’s business. Everyone here hates that.”  
“As evidenced by your friend, Eld, just a few minutes ago,” Frieda commented. “I suppose after the speech on Founder’s Day, I’m hardly able to stay anonymous now as well.”  
“Not a chance, but celebrity status doesn’t mean anything to us. The Scout Regiment isn’t really well-liked in the first place, so being nice is low on our priorities.”  
She gave a slightly wry grin. “So I noticed. Will you convey an apology to him? It was never my intention to piss him off.”  
“Nope.”  
Frieda cocked her head, unsure what to make of his immediate response. “So, I have no way of passing on my apology to him?”  
“Well, in our society, we usually go do it ourselves instead of having someone else do it,” Gunther pointed out. “He’s outside waiting for me.”  
Frieda finished her wine in a large gulp, wincing slightly at the overpowering flavor hitting all at once. “I would hate to keep him waiting any longer. Thank you for your time, Gunther. You seem like a good guy.”  
“I’m really not, but I appreciate the compliment, Lady Reiss,” he responded.  
“Just Frieda, please. I’m not in the Interior right now, and I’d prefer to not think about my family and status for a few minutes,” she requested, standing to her feet.  
“I’ll at least give you an idea on how to talk to Eld,” Gunther offered, not joining her. “His best friend was eaten by a Titan yesterday. Never had a chance.”  
The young queen cringed. “I had no idea. But thank you for telling me. That does help in how I approach him. Again, thank you, Gunther.” She bowed her head slightly to him, and headed outside.   
Eld was easy to locate, leaning against the outer wall of the tavern, smoking. He had a scowl on his face that easily drove most people to keep their distance. Not Frieda, however.  
“Eld? I’m sorry for what I said. I was out of line,” the young queen said gently, coming to stand in front of him. “I meant no offense to you.”  
He exhaled a large amount of smoke before turning his gaze to her. “Nobles don’t usually apologize. Don’t know whether to be surprised or wonder if you’re trying to pull something.”  
“What would I possibly be trying to pull? I never meant to upset you. And, I’m sorry for what you’re going through now. Gunther told me that you lost someone very close to you yesterday. I-- Nobody should have to go through that sort of thing. I know I can’t change the fact that it happened, but please know, that what you’re doing, it’s not in vain.”  
Eld stopped from putting the cigarette back in his mouth as her words sunk in. “Not in vain, huh? How do you figure?”   
“Because every Titan that’s killed out there is one less Titan humanity has to worry about,” she explained. “It may not seem like much, but every Titan that dies means that if they invade again, one more person will live to escape.”  
Eld stared into her eyes, trying to find anything that could indicate she was lying. “It’s a nice sentiment… and it’s the backbone of what we fight for out there.”  
Frieda nodded. “I really do need to thank you, Eld.”  
“For what?”  
“For reminding me… of what the cost is, and what it is that we are ultimately fighting for. It’s something easy to forget when one is surrounded by the luxuries of nobility. But you, you spoke to me as a fellow human, and helped me recognize that all of us are touched by this in one way or another. So, thank you, for helping me open my eyes to everything,” she smiled at him warmly.  
Now it was Eld’s turn to tilt his head. “You’re a weird noble, Lady Reiss. I’m not sure what to think of you.”  
She laughed softly. “Please, call me Frieda. Lady Reiss is reserved for times in high society… or if my father is introducing me to another potential suitor. And I think I’ll take being referred to as a ‘weird noble’ as a compliment.”  
He flicked the cigarette into the nearest trash bin. “I’d better get back. The captain will want the tea as soon as possible.”  
Frieda shook her head, amused by this. “Why am I not surprised that your captain would want a more refined drink than ale? If you ever find yourself in the Interior, I would ask that you get in touch with me. I think I owe you a drink after everything this evening.”  
“If I manage to get inside, I’ll take you up on that.” With a smirk, Eld headed back to the carriage that brought him and Gunther here. With a crack of the whip, they left, leaving her behind.  
Frieda watched them leave, then climbed into her own carriage, heading back toward home. Things certainly hadn’t gone how she had expected them to this evening, that was for certain. She hadn’t anticipated conversing with anyone in the Scouts, and certainly hadn’t expected to set one of them off as she had. Yet, she had a sense that Eld was a decent man, just like Gunther. Both had seen unspeakable things during their time on various expeditions, so the anger they held toward nobility who had never dared to think, let alone venture beyond the Walls was justified. She did hope that the Goddess would allow her the chance to cross paths with Eld again. He was willing to do what few others had, and stand up to her about the hypocrisies that she herself had failed to recognize. Perhaps fate would give her the opportunity to interact with him. Fate was a fickle thing… having Gunther be from Nate’s home district? That could have been a mere coincidence but Frieda was disinclined to think so.  
Her thoughts drifted back to Nate. Even for all of her initial anger and indignation, her mother did have a point. Never would she be able to forget Nate. Not her love for him, nor the fact that she carried his blood forever on her hands. But she could not allow herself to be trapped forever in the past. Sooner than later, she would need to be willing to open herself up to the possibility of finding another man to build up a courtship with.   
She smiled wryly to herself as a thought crossed her mind. How amusing would it be to bring home a man like Eld or Gunther, rather than the noble pigs that her mother seemed to harbor such a fondness for? She could imagine the look of horror on her mother’s face when she caught sight of the recognizable wings that denoted the Survey Corps. Such a contrast to Nate. The young man had been perfect, perhaps too perfect, which might be why fate had other plans for her in the long-term. Even still, she was grateful to the Goddess for all the time that she had spent with the man named Nathaniel Fleischer. She had no regrets with him forever holding her first kiss. The only regrets she had came from it being his last one as she stole his life away. He was with the Goddess now, and in that thought, Frieda took solace.  
It was late when the carriage rolled back up to the house, and the young queen made her way back inside. She was planning on heading silently upstairs to meditate and pray before ending the day. However, her father met her at the base of the stairs after she softly closed the front door.  
“I hope I didn’t wake you, Father,” Frieda began in a low whisper. “I was clearing my head and--”  
“You didn’t wake me. I understand.” Rod cut her off. “That’s not what I wish to speak to you about.”  
The eldest Reiss daughter mentally braced herself for the lecture that was sure to be coming.  
“I applaud your desire to take the throne publicly, and I shall do whatever it takes to make it happen,” Rod said, taking her hands in his own. “The fact that you reached the decision to be known as the True Queen of humanity is something that shows that you are ready for the responsibilities that will come with it.”  
Frieda was stunned. “I… I, um, thank you, Father,” she stammered.  
“You let me worry about your mother. From now on, we will work on establishing your position and your relationships with the nobles, the branches of the military, and finally with the people, in addition to your Titan training to maintain your strength and skills. Within a year’s time, you shall have your public coronation, if I have anything to say about it,” Rod replied. “Lead us well, my Queen.”  
Frieda’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement in the dimly lit foyer. “A True Queen always does what is best for her people.”


	23. Making Amends

You know it’s going to be an interesting day when Frieda starts it cussing out the maids, Abel thought with a snicker. From across the hallway, she could hear her eldest sister ripping the maid a new one. Honestly, she couldn’t fault Frieda for being upset. She would be too if a recently-hired maid had permanently stained one of her favorite skirts with bleach. The choices of words and insults coming from the young queen were certainly colorful. Abel had a feeling that if their mother heard what was being said that there would be consequences, queen and bearer of the “Holy Inheritance” or not.  
She went from looking at her closed, bedroom door back to the dreaded textbook she was supposed to be reading before breakfast. It was horrendously boring, similar to the some of the sermons Frieda was infamous for. How did this shit pass for literature? She wasn’t the best at writing, but she knew that she could tell a more entertaining story than what she was being forced to read. Curse this blasted book!  
An especially loud screech of anger came across the hall, causing Florian to bolt upright in her bed. Her hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders, and she wiped the back of her hand across her blinking eyes. “Abel? What’s wrong with Frieda?”  
Abel snorted. “That stupid maid that Father hired got bleach on one of her favorite skirts, and is currently trying to make excuses, like the bitch she is.”  
Florian’s mouth fell open slightly. “Ohhhh. That explains why Frieda is screaming like a banshee.”  
Abel nodded, and scowled at the offending book again. “Come on. We’ve gotta be downstairs for breakfast in thirty minutes. Mother will have a field day if you head down there with your hair looking like that.”  
The baby of the family threw off her covers and dashed over to the mirror. “ABEL! Why didn’t you tell me that my hair looked so bad?”  
“I just did, silly.” Abel stuck out her tongue at her little sister. “Come on. I’ll help you braid it if we’ve got enough time after we get dressed.”  
Florian grinned at her. “Deal. I’d offer to do yours too, but…”  
Abel stuck out her tongue again. “No thanks. I prefer wearing it down around my shoulders, thank you very much.”  
Her sister giggled. “And some things never change.”  
Thirty minutes later, the girls joined the rest of the family at the breakfast table. Frieda was scowling but silent, having been reprimanded about her language from their mother when she began ranting about her misfortune. Dirk and Urklyn were fighting to keep straight faces and failing miserably. Rod focused on his newspaper and his eggs, refusing to get involved in the drama.   
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Urklyn posed the general question to the family.  
Rod glanced up from his newspaper. “Frieda and I have an important meeting with the council in about two hours. It’s likely to run the majority of the day.”  
Frieda wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin. “The usual attire and timing, Father?”  
The Reiss patriarch nodded. “Yes. Only difference will be that we are voting on the replacement of Mikkel Haus. Such a pity for him to have died from that heart attack when he did.”  
Urklyn swallowed hard and looked at his plate, suddenly very interested in his omelet and the remainder of his toast. He was extremely thankful when Florian piped up.  
“Abel and I both have our lessons to focus on before the tutor comes tomorrow to check in on our progress.” Florian glanced at Abel. “I’m nearly finished with mine. I just have another book that I need to finish and write an essay reviewing it.”  
Abel scowled at her plate. “I’ve got to finish the book he gave me last week, and write an advertising summary paragraph.” She didn’t voice it, but she had a nagging feeling that she was forgetting something.   
Dirk snickered. “Advertising summary? Because the book itself was hella boring and nobody wanted to do it themselves?”  
“Not funny, Dirk.” She shot him a dark look.  
“I’m going to be running an errand later this morning. Come with me, Abel. Some fresh air would do you good and help clear your mind so you can focus on the book,” Urklyn offered.   
Abel was focused on her breakfast and missed the pointed look that Greta gave Urklyn, as well as his responding finger over his lips and mouthed “trust me”. “You mean it, Urklyn?” she asked, her eyes going back to her older brother.   
“Of course. Besides, it’s not that much fun to go everywhere by myself. It’s not too far from here, so I was planning on walking,” he replied.   
She glanced down at her pastel green dress with white lace trim, and her white shoes. “Do I need to change or is this outfit adequate?”  
“That should be fine. It’s not like we are going to meet the King of the Walls,” Urklyn joked. “We’ll leave after breakfast.”  
Florian chimed in when it sounded like there was fun to be had. “I want to go, too!”  
Greta’s eyebrows went up at that. “Last I checked, Florian, you have more assignments than you let on, especially since you have to redo your page of arithmetic. Not to mention, you got all the dates wrong on your history papers. You’re not going anywhere, young lady.”  
The baby of the family slid lower in her seat and pouted, knowing better than to argue with her mother.  
“Well, my tutor is coming today, so that means I’m going to be trapped inside all day. Least you know I won’t be kidnapped,” Dirk said, laughing at himself. Nobody else shared his forced mirth, leaving the table in awkward silence for the remainder of the meal.   
Urklyn excused himself as soon as he could, mumbling to Abel as he passed her chair that they would be leaving shortly. He took the steps two at a time up to his bedroom. He was glad that his mother hadn’t argued more about allowing Abel to accompany him. He had a couple reasons to want her with him for this errand, and from the looks of things, she wasn’t aware of either one, which would work in his favor. He dug through his drawers, huffing in frustration when he couldn’t find the item he was looking for, then he rubbed his hand over his face. Of course it wasn’t there. He had forgotten to actually purchase it for Abel, intending to do so the week of Founder’s Day. Shaking his head at his stupidity, he rolled to his feet and headed back downstairs to meet Abel.  
Abel took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax and enjoy not having to focus on the offending book. “So, tell me again why we aren’t taking the carriage?”  
Urklyn chuckled, walking at a leisurely pace. “I wanted the exercise. Besides, if we had taken the carriage, then we would have been back a heck of a lot faster, and then you’d have to return to ‘The Complete Life and History of Karl Fritz’.”  
She made a face as she matched his steps. “Good point. I won’t argue with that. How is that supposed to be fascinating?”  
“Probably the same way that Frieda’s sermons are supposed to be,” her older brother quipped.  
Abel cracked a smile in spite of herself. “And you needed me for this errand, apparently?”  
“Well, I believe I still owe you something from Founder’s Day. I have no real excuse on why it’s taken me well over a month since I came home, except that I’ve been trying to figure out what to get for you. It’ll be in two parts. So, in that respect, we are going to be making two stops, not one.”  
Abel feigned shock and anger. “How dare you presume that I would do so much walking? I hope they are at least within the same district.” She flashed him a grin so he would know she wasn’t being serious.  
“Well, it’s in two parts for another reason,” Urklyn admitted. “The first is Founder’s Day. The second… well, I want to see if you can figure it out.” His smugness shone through his tone and the smirk that settled on his face.  
She narrowed her eyes, her mind starting to race. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get it,” she said confidently.  
He reached over and ruffled her brown hair. “Just keep telling yourself that.”  
She batted his hand away, “Anyone ever tell you not to be such a smug jackass?”  
Urklyn snorted. “Only Dirk, and he’s one to talk. Though not so much recently…” he trailed off. “I keep hoping that the more time passes, that he’ll be able to return to acting more like his normal self.”  
Abel glanced at him. “He has his moments, but he’s still not off the meds completely. I overheard Mother comment to Father about how it’s not good for him, but they don’t have a lot of choice. They are bringing him down off of them slowly.”  
Urklyn winced. “That’s not going to be good. He’s been on them long enough that he’s probably adjusted to having them in his system. We’ve gotta make sure that we are doing our best to support him, the two of us especially.”  
She nodded, a comfortable silence falling for a few moments as they walked. She raised an eyebrow when she realized that Urklyn had led them to a dress shop. “Ummm, Mother just got me several new dresses.”  
“Yes, but were they ones that she chose, or ones that you selected?” he shot back.   
“...oh. You have a point,” she conceded, following him inside.  
Nearly an hour later, they left the store, with Urklyn carrying a bag that contained not one, but two dresses that Abel had adored. “Founder’s Day blessings to you,” he grinned at her. “Did you figure out the second reasoning yet?”  
She furrowed her brow as she tried to think. “Nothing comes to mind yet.”  
Urklyn’s expression looked like that of the cat who swallowed the canary and framed the dog for its crimes. “It’s no wonder you don’t remember. Frieda’s been stealing the limelight since she made her announcement about taking the crown.”  
Abel scowled at him. “Just tell me, Urklyn,” she begged.   
“But it’s more fun this way,” he protested, thoroughly enjoying lording the secret over her.  
She glared at him and punched his bicep, earning a slight wince from him. “Don’t make me utilize my training with Uncle Kenny,” she warned him, her tone serious.  
“Oww, I can tell you’ve been practicing. Alright, alright, you win. Happy birthday, twerp.” He gently shoved her away from him.  
She stopped in her tracks. “I can’t believe I forgot…” she trailed off. Come to think of it, birthdays in the Reiss family stopped being relevant unless you were Frieda, Florian, and Dirk (well, until he lost his finger). Everyone else had their day mentioned in offhand remarks, the equivalence of advertisements nobody read in the newspapers.  
“I can’t either,” Urklyn teased her. “Is your memory failing you now that you’ve reached the ripe old age of fifteen?”  
“Shut up, Urklyn,” she mumbled, catching up to him as he rounded the corner. “So, what’s the second stop?”  
“We’ve reached it.” He gestured to the sign hanging above the next building in front of them. The slightly worn sign reading Amsdale’s Forge swung in the light afternoon breeze.   
“A forge?” she asked, slightly confused.  
“My lawyer’s husband is a blacksmith. I have to talk to him about commissioning a sword for Frieda’s coronation. Let me know what you see that you like. I’m purchasing you something from here, too,” Urklyn explained before giving her a warning look. “Thing singular. These aren’t dresses I’m buying anymore. These are tools meant for combat. Expensive tools.”  
Abel shot him a dark look. “I’m not stupid. You said something here, and I’ll limit myself to one. I’m already grateful that you’re purchasing me anything, since you did buy me two dresses earlier.”  
“Just checking. Rule Number 3 of being of Reiss: cover or exploit every possible loophole.”  
Abel nodded and followed him inside, allowing her eyes to shift from the bright sunlight to the more dim interior. Urklyn handed her the dress bag and immediately headed over to the muscular, brown-haired man with a short beard standing by the back counter, whispering something to him. The man’s eyes widened, and he clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on back into the forge area so we can discuss the details of this.”   
Urklyn glanced over to his sister. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Take some time looking things over, and let me know what you like.” Having said that, he followed the older man through a door and out of sight.   
Abel sighed and turned her attention to the glass display cases. The first she skimmed over, having no need for the long blades that the Survey Corp utilized. Same went with the second case that was full of longswords. She paused by the one containing daggers and boot knives, admiring the fine craftsmanship, and detail on each of the unique blades.   
“I hope you’re not planning on using those wearing a skirt,” a young voice said behind her. “They aren’t very combat friendly.”  
Abel whirled around, locking eyes with a teenager roughly her age, maybe a year older. He sported a blue shirt and brown pants, unusual for a person living within Wall Sina. His brown eyes were sharply fixed on her in observation, and she hoped, for his sake, his observing stayed above her neck. And then there was his hairstyle. It was short and slightly messy, as if he was trying out a style and then gave up halfway.  
“Depends on the combat,” she retorted immediately. “Hand-to-hand, of course you need pants. But with throwing knives? Skirts are a non-issue then.”  
“Unless you miss, of course,” he pointed out simply. “No one is perfect.” He seemed so sure of himself, as if that statement was an obvious fact.  
“Not last I checked. I think my eldest sister might argue that with you, however,” Abel replied, turning back to the display case.  
“Well, she’s not here.” He strode up to the empty spot next to her. “So, what are you looking for?”  
“Anything that’s not wooden. Apparently, that’s the only style of ‘practice’ weapons suitable for a young woman to utilize. At least according to my uncle.”  
“Right, because if you’re mugged in an alley, a wooden knife will offer you the best protection possible.” The teen had the sarcasm of a Reiss down to a tee.   
Abel laughed softly. “Mind helping me argue that with my uncle? He’s rather a tight-ass when it comes to things like that. Mother too. I get injured while training twice, and I suddenly have to take a lengthy break from it.” She rolled her eyes. “What do you suggest?” she asked, glancing at him.  
He chuckled back. “I wouldn’t come to me for advice on dealing with family. I’m just trying to get through the days with mine.”  
“Worth a shot,” she mumbled. “But I was actually wanting your advice on a knife.”  
“As in, you want to know what best suits you.” WIthout warning, he yanked off a longer knife off the wall and handed it to her. “Let’s find out.”  
Abel took the handle of the knife he offered, and shifted it into her left hand. “I think the blade is a touch too long for my purposes. Not to mention, the grip doesn’t feel quite comfortable. Maybe it’s because I’m left-handed.”  
He tilted his head in confusion. “That’s not the reaction I was expecting.”  
Now it was her turn to be confused. “What? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”  
“A random guy walks up to you, starts talking about weapons, and then pulls a knife off the wall,” he explained. “For all you know, I could be a psychopath that collects toes.”  
She snorted. “Yeah, a psychopath who collects toes and spends his time around display cases of knives, waiting to lure in new victims. I had a feeling that you work here in some capacity. Besides, if you had meant me any ill intentions, you wouldn’t have handed me the knife,” she pointed out.  
“Good observations. Just wanted to make sure you had those before we continued.” He smiled, holding out his hand. “Dillon Amsdale, son of the sign outside the forge.”  
Abel burst out laughing. “Your mother must have been rather desperate then. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” she snarked, shaking his hand briefly. “Abel Reiss, the middle daughter that nobody gives a shit about.”  
“A noble with a gutter mouth. I’m liking you more and more,” Dillon replied, taking back the knife and pulling off a smaller one. “This one’s a boot knife. You can carry it around with you. I personally find them useful if you can get to them in time, though that instinct takes practice.”  
She took the handle he offered, and turned the blade in her hands. “Not bad. Maybe I should be looking for something in between. Like a dagger I can sheath under my skirt to keep any would-be muggers at bay. They’d think they are getting a show, and then BAM! Knife to the eyeball,” she snickered.  
He rolled his eyes. “That’s the oldest trick in the book, Abel. Skirts and weapons don’t go together.”  
“And how do you know this? From personal experience?” she quipped, glancing at him.  
“Sorry. I don’t have the legs for them,” he responded as he reattached the boot knife to the wall. “Half the women that buy weapons from here come back demanding we pay damages for their ripped skirts.”  
“And this is why I prefer to wear pants whenever possible,” Abel mumbled. “Do you have any daggers that easily attach to a belt or a leg strap? I’m assuming you do, in one form or another.”  
Dillon thought for a moment before snapping his fingers. “I know just the thing.” He drummed his fingers across several knives before pulling a five-inch, fixed-blade knife from the display. “This should work for you. This can fit in the belt loops like a glove after you put on the belt. Can’t tell you how many times people put the knife under the belt.”  
“People are stupid,” Abel chuckled, taking the blade. “Damn, the craftsmanship is gorgeous. The spiral carving on the hilt looks fantastic. Almost looks like an imprint of a snail shell.”  
“Thanks. I made it my--.” He froze, looking closer at the hilt. “Oh, whoops.” He grabbed another knife that looked exactly the same. “Okay, this one I made.”  
Abel raised an eyebrow at him. “They look exactly the same. How did you tell that you didn’t make this one?” she asked, handing the first one back to him.  
“The initials.” He indicated the hilt. “Every single weapon in here is marked by either my initials, or my father’s. His has the M.A., while I have the D.A.”   
She nodded in understanding, noticing the tiny letters carved in the handles. “Looks like your father taught you well. I might have to make sure that I’m purchasing one that you made,” she said, shooting him a wink.   
“Good. I’ve been trying to get my name out there for a--.”  
“Dillon!” The bearded man that Urklyn was talking to returned to the shop, giving his son a stern look. “Have you been forcing people to buy your weapons again?”  
He stared at him with wide eyes. “Force? Dad, when have I done that?”  
“Hmm, let’s see.” His father drummed his chin in mock-thought. “There was the blonde woman from a month ago. You claimed there were nicks and scratches on my sword and gave her yours instead. Oh, and there was the time you ‘accidentally’ dropped one of my falcatas and broke it. Conveniently, you had a replacement that just so happened to have your name on it. Need I go on?”  
Dillon look away with a blush on his face. “It’s true. Your knife was all scratched up,” he protested meekly.  
Abel shot him a look. “Really? Let me guess, it’s usually with impressionable, attractive young women, isn’t it?”  
“Forgive him,” the man requested. “To be honest, my son is the impressionable one.”  
“Dad!” The embarrassment was going to bury Dillon alive.   
Abel chuckled at the insult. “I can see that. And he’s humble, too.”  
“Name’s Matthew. I run the shop. And you had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting my son, it seems.” He eyed the knives with approval. “Ah, belt knives. Good choice. Easier to get to than boot knives.”  
“And far superior to the wooden ‘practice’ ones that I’ve been forced to use,” Abel smiled warmly at him, then glanced past him. “Where’d you leave Urklyn? Don’t tell me he’s fallen into the forge or something,” she joked.  
“No, he’s taking a look at some of our swords to get an idea on the design he wants,” Matthew explained. “Some of them aren’t on display due to how valuable they are, but I can trust the Reiss family not to run off with my products.”  
“Or at the very least, if they did, you’d receive a hefty amount of money in exchange,” Abel quipped. “I mean, Urklyn once borrowed a horse from one of my sister’s suitors. He returned it within two days though.”  
“Allegedly!” came her brother’s voice from the forge.   
“Allegedly, my ass! That filly was DEFINITELY not one of ours, and it was only there for two days. How do you explain that?” she called, loud enough for her brother to hear.  
Matthew chuckled, shaking his head. “I have to say, you two aren’t what I expected from the Reiss family.”  
“Well, we can’t all be stuffy nobles,” Abel deadpanned, spinning to look at Dillon. “There a reason why your eyes are boring holes in the back of my head? I did bathe last night…” she made a point of sniffing at herself. “Yup, still smell okay.”  
Dillon froze. “Oh, crap. I’m so sorry. I didn’t--.”  
Matthew sighed in annoyance. “Dillon, head upstairs. We’ll talk about this later.”  
The teen bowed his head, looking a bit ashamed of himself. He muttered another apology to Abel before he trudged upstairs, closing the door behind him.  
“I’m really sorry about that, Lady Reiss,” his father said sincerely.   
Abel was shocked. “First off, don’t call me ‘Lady Reiss’. That’s my mother. And second, I wasn’t upset. You didn’t need to send him away. I just thought it was funny that he was staring and I wanted to give him a hard time for it,” she explained.  
“And do you think other women that have caught him staring would be as gracious as you’re being?” Matthew asked pointedly. “He’s young and growing, Miss Reiss. He needs to learn restraint.”  
In the nick of time, Urklyn popped back in. “Alright. Everything seems to be in order. Abel, did you find the weapon you wanted?”  
She glanced over at where the weapons had been. “I did, but Dillon took them both upstairs with him. Do you mind calling him down, so I can make my selection?” she asked Matthew, forcing more sweetness into her tone that she was feeling.  
Matthew had a look that said this wasn’t the first time and shouted, “Dillon! Bring back the knives!”  
Soon enough, Dillon came back with his face as red a tomato. He handed her his father’s design sheepishly before putting his own knife back on the display.  
“Is that the knife you want?” Urklyn asked, just to be sure.  
Abel glanced at the hilt just long enough to make out the initials, then handed the knife back to Dillon. “No, he was trying to put away the one that I wanted, actually,” she pointed out, a slight blush on her cheeks. “The grip was slightly more comfortable on the other,” she said lamely, trying to think of a better excuse and finding none.  
“Oh, sorry,” Dillon replied, quickly switching it out.  
Urklyn handed Matthew a large selection of gold coins. “That should cover the knife and half of what you need for the sword.”  
“I won’t let your family down,” the man promised. “Check back in a couple of weeks, and I can give you a better estimate on how long until the sword is ready.” He glanced over at his son. “Come on, Dillon. We need to wash up for lunch. It was nice meeting you two.”  
“Likewise,” Urklyn said, shaking his hand.  
Dillon looked like he wanted to do the same with Abel, but his nerves were shot. He just nodded quickly and followed his father back into the house.  
“Nice to meet you too, Dillon. And thanks for your help,” Abel called as he walked away. For once, there was no sarcasm in her tone, for she genuinely had enjoyed the time she’d spent in the shop.  
Urklyn crossed his arms for a moment before gesturing Abel to follow him. Once the two were outside, he finally said what was on his mind. “I heard what was going on. Sorry for butting in, but I know you too well.”  
She feigned innocence. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Urklyn.” Her fingers idly slid over the sheath and hilt of her new knife in her hand before she slipped it into the top of the bag with the dresses she still carried.  
"Come on. You were about to declare war on the blacksmith," Urklyn explained, giving her a pointed look.  
“I wasn’t going to ‘declare war’ on him!” she protested. “I might’ve been thinking of calling him out on being an ass to his son, but I didn’t actually voice it.”  
"They grow up so fast," he said with a mock sniff.  
“Go to hell, Urklyn,” she glared at him. “I did want to ask you something, though.”  
"Sorry. I'm busy being sent to hell at the moment," he retorted, beginning the walk back to their home.  
“Well, since I’m going with you anyway, think you can spare a thought?” Abel snarked.  
"Sure. What's going on?"  
“Will you tell me when you’re heading back to check on the sword’s progress? It was fun being out with you today,” she said sincerely.  
Urklyn hid a smirk that threatened to appear. "Sure. Anything for my little sister."  
Abel grinned and poked his ribs. “Anything? Does that mean I get your share of dessert later too?”  
"Nope."  
“Lying bastard.”  
"Snotty brat."  
The pair continued to swap insults as they made their way to the house. Abel couldn’t help but smile. Urklyn seemed to be back to normal, and he’d remembered her birthday. She’d managed to avoid that awful book for the majority of the day, and she thought she’d made a new friend too. Fifteen promised to be a better year than the previous already.


	24. The Slow Rebuild

“... and that’s how I conquered the world. The End. Just kidding.   
In all seriousness, that was one of the best dreams I’ve ever had. Have you ever wanted to have super-human abilities? Not counting your winning sarcasm, of course. ;)  
Oops. Mom is calling for dinner. I can’t wait to get your response! Have a good night, okay?”  
Dillon A.  
Before the signature, there was a scratched out word, replaced by a hastily scrawled “sincerely.” Abel shook her head as she re-read the letter for the fourth time. This was the fifth letter she’d received from him in the space of three weeks. Leaning over, she pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from her bedside table, leaving the letter resting on her lap. No way in hell would Abel ever admit to any of her family, even her siblings, that she was trading letters with a boy. Her brothers and sisters would never let her hear the end of it. Last thing she wanted was dating advice from Frieda… especially considering her track record.   
And then there were her parents. If her “sweet and loving” mother found out, she would either stamp out the relationship due to his “lesser status” or whatever bullshit that came out of her ass, or she would push for grandchildren, the one-note hag. That’s why she was thankful for multiple servants. Easy to find a lovestruck dummy to bribe to send and receive the letters. And even if the servant was caught, her name would be on the signature, not Abel’s, and any other names were changed as well. Of course, that meant this woman would be privy to those words, but it was a small price to pay.   
She glanced over the contents again as she started to compose the reply, but her concentration was broken by the choked screams that her brother was emitting from down the hall. She ducked her head and tried not to focus on it. If she didn’t finish the letter tonight, it wouldn’t be sent out for Dillon tomorrow, and she hated keeping him waiting, especially given how punctual his letters had been. Across the room, Florian let out a soft snore, already asleep after the long afternoon she’d had horseback riding with Frieda.  
Urklyn, meanwhile, was doing his best to give their parents some rest, and was in Dirk’s bedroom, wrapping a blanket snugly around his brother as Dirk’s body shook with chills. The younger teen fought to keep from biting his tongue as he shivered. The chills had been happening off and on since dawn, broken only by dizziness and mood swings that had him either crying out in anger, or sobbing like a child.  
“Why the fuck did they stop the meds? They helped me feel normal!” Dirk choked out, his voice hoarse from screaming.  
“Some bullshit about because it’s been ‘over six months since you came off the painkillers, and nine months since the ordeal that you shouldn’t need any meds at all’,” Urklyn scowled. “I can guarantee it was a decision made by our parents and not the doctors.”  
Dirk didn’t respond, the shaking sensation fading and being replaced by a round of nausea. He dry-heaved into a nearby bucket for several long minutes, while Urklyn kept a hand on his back. Finally, the heaving stopped as well, and he leaned back heavily against his brother, his breathing slowly returning to normal. “This shit sucks so bad, Urklyn,” he rasped.  
What was Urklyn supposed to say? I know? He didn’t know a damn thing about his brother’s situation. He was in prison for Ymir’s sake, but he had no one to blame but himself for this. That being said, Dirk crying himself to sleep was something Urklyn did many times after the Garber Massacre, and after murdering his allies in cold blood. “This won’t last forever, Dirk,” he assured calmly.  
Dirk’s eyes were red and puffy, even as new tears welled up in them. “They can’t fucking bring back my finger. There’s no such thing as normal for me anymore! I was chained, beaten, and mutilated. And I’m supposed to just ‘move on with life’?!”  
That struck Urklyn as he gripped his brother’s shoulder tightly. “You don’t move on from this. You take it with you wherever you go. It becomes a part of you whether you want it to be or not, but the pain does lessen in time.”  
“How the hell would you know? It’s not like you’ve been through anything like this,” Dirk hiccuped, too weak to force more anger into his tone.  
Urklyn’s eyes shut tight as he felt the truth begging to erupt from his body. His parents were inside the house sleeping soundly. He couldn’t risk them hearing it. He just couldn’t. He… “Do you remember that ‘trip’ Father took me on when I was fifteen and you were twelve?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
“You mean that hunting trip you went on with Father and Uncle Kenny?” Dirk asked.  
“It wasn’t a lie. It was a hunting trip… but Father and Kenny had different prey in mind.” Shattering the illusions of someone who was going through hell was such a bad idea, but Urklyn felt he needed to know now. Too much had happened for him to keep this a secret any longer. “You want to know how the Garbers died on the same day we went on that trip? Because Father and Kenny killed every person in that household.”  
Dirk was flabbergasted, his jaw falling open. The fact that Urklyn, his elder brother, had just accused their father and the man they considered to be family of murder was shocking. He shook his head, refusing to believe it. “No. Not Father. He was friends with the Garbers. He wouldn’t do such a thing…”  
“I was fucking there, Dirk,” he snarled. His hands were shaking as his mind went back to that horrible day. “There was so much screaming that day. Bodies falling in every hallway, the stench of blood so thick you could choke on it. I can still smell it every day. I tried to get out, but the door was locked on Father’s orders. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t escape. I just curled up on the ground begging the Goddess for it to end… that one of those rounds could hit me so I wouldn’t have to hear those damned screams ever again.”  
Dirk had no words, watching his brother, one of the strongest men he knew, shaking like a leaf, his voice breaking as he relived the trauma. “...Father did that?” he asked, brokenly. “He forced you to be there?”  
“It was a lesson for me, and punishment for Dolph Garber because he leaked something vital about our family to someone,” Urklyn explained. “My father told me that if he had to kill his friends to ensure our family’s survival, then he would do so without a second thought. ‘That’s what it means to be in the Reiss family.’” Slowly, he turned his head to meet his brother’s eyes. “When Father spoke those words, I was gazing into the face of a true monster, Dirk. Blood running down his head, eyes colder than the harshest winters. They bore no love, nor compassion or sympathy. He… he hurt me because he believed he was right.”   
Dirk could do nothing but watch. Words were meaningless to convey what he felt or anything that could help. He desperately wanted to deny Urklyn’s testimony, but only monsters could fake such emotions, say such things about family and be false about them.   
“Have you ever dreamed about killing someone, Dirk?” Urklyn asked quietly. “Shoot them, stab them to death?”  
Dirk shook his head dumbly. “Not unless you count the man that removed my finger. But Frieda made sure to kill him for me.”  
“What would you say if I told you that some of the happiest dreams I’ve had was murdering Father?” With Dirk stunned to silence again, he continued. “I’ve buried bodies for that monster. I watched him commit murder without so much as blinking. He deserves to die for every single thing he’s done, so I decided I was going to take everything from him!” His voice was raised, but he contained himself so that the object of his hatred wouldn’t wake from that declaration. He spoke faster, his voice turning into a rant that wouldn’t be misplaced from that of a madman. “I gained allies, people who wanted him gone as much as I did. I was thrilled that the monster would be gone, that my dream could be a reality, but the bastard had an informant in our ranks, and I had to choose between dying for the cause, or killing my allies to save my own skin. So, I killed them all. Every. Last. One!”  
Dirk’s mouth fell open again, and he subconsciously scooted back several inches. His mind raced, trying to make sense of everything he was hearing. “W-what did you do then?” He asked timidly.  
Urklyn stood up and started pacing back and forth. He was a caged predator desperate for something, ANYTHING, that would satisfy the hunger he felt. “I got drunk. What else could I do? That’s why I smelled of alcohol, Dirk, because I thought booze would wipe away the innocent blood on my hands. They look clean, don’t they?” He held them up for his brother to see. “Yes, a rinse in the sink is all it takes to remove the color, but it’s still there. You can’t wipe away murder, Dirk. That’s what makes me different from Father. Murder is a day on the job for him, but for me, it’s a sin that Ymir will make me burn for. I am damned, but not before I make sure you, Florian, Abel, and Frieda are safe from our father, from that monster of a bodyguard.”  
Now, the younger brother was scared, backing up from the crazed man in front of him. He had no idea what he was about to do. For all he knew, there was an ax outside the door waiting to be used to chop up their father. “W-W-What does Uncle Kenny have to…?” He was stuttering so badly, he couldn’t go on.  
“Father may call Frieda the True Queen of the Walls, but he’s the one pulling everyone’s strings. Kenny is the man waiting in the shadows like a rattlesnake waiting to strike. The only sound you hear is its rattle and its hiss. And he gave me a warning not to cross him. I had no idea he would... “ Tears filled up in Urklyn’s eyes. “He… he arranged your kidnapping just so he could lord over me that he could have your finger cut off and get away with it. It’s all my fault, Dirk!” He began to weep as he crumbled to the floor, curling into himself like he did when he was fifteen. “This is all my fault!”  
Dirk sat in stunned silence. How could he even begin to wrap his head around what he’d just heard? His brother. Their father. The man he considered to be an uncle to him. All that he thought he’d known about them was a sham. His brother had innocent blood on his hands. Goddess only knew what crimes their father had orchestrated. And Kenny… In horror, Dirk remembered a seeming joke that had been made at Founder’s Day. What was it the man had said? “One finger down.” He shivered involuntarily at the memory. Seeing Urklyn looking so vulnerable, he slid off the edge of the bed, and put his hand on his elder brother’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you for any of this.”  
Urklyn looked up at his brother, shocked. “Dirk, that’s… that’s crazy. If I didn’t get so caught up in trying to take down Father, none of this--.”  
“Shut up, Urklyn. It’s not your fault,” Dirk snapped. “If there’s anyone at fault here, it’s that lying bastard who works for our father.” He paused and blew out his breath and tried to contain his rage. “How did you find out it was him?”  
“He visited me in prison to gloat about it,” Urklyn sneered, wiping away the tears with his arm. “Asshole broke my ribs while he was at it.”  
Dirk pushed himself back up onto the edge of the bed, and offered a hand up to Urklyn. “So, what happens now?”  
His brother hesitated briefly before taking Dirk’s hand. “What happens is you pretend like none of this ever happened and go about your life, little brother.”  
“But what about Father and Kenny?”  
“You treat them like you always have,” he instructed. “You can’t let them know the truth. Our lives depend on it, Dirk.” He looked away in shame. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Now, you’re dragged into this mess.”  
“What are you going to do? You haven’t just given up, have you?” Dirk asked. “That’s not like you.”  
“The less you know, the better, but I haven’t given up.”  
Dirk sat quietly, processing everything. “This is gonna take one hell of an act. Especially around him,” he said finally.  
“I know. And I’m sorry.” Urklyn let out a sigh. “Try to rest, Dirk, in spite of what I said.”  
His younger brother nodded. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad I know the truth now. No matter how badly it might hurt, it ain’t as bad as losing a finger,” he gave a wry smile.  
Urklyn didn’t return it. “Don’t lie to me… or yourself.” Quietly, he closed the door behind him, leaving his brother shrouded in darkness with nothing but the stars and moon to light his room.   
Dirk laid back heavily against the pillows on his bed. Urklyn did a have point. He had been lying to himself when he said the truth didn’t hurt as badly as losing a finger. But how was he supposed to feel after being betrayed by two men he had respected and called family? Anger, hatred, and a hurt from the depth of the betrayal warred within him. He had never been one to hold in anger or have a grudge against someone. He was fine with letting things go and roll off his back, but this was something he couldn’t let go of. This went far deeper than he had ever dreamed, and it would take all the strength he could muster to feign that he was clueless.

\---------------------

“Frieda? Are you in here?” Florian called as she descended the stairs into the crystal caverns. “I thought we were going into town today, maybe to the book shop?”  
The monstrous head of Frieda’s Titan form came from around one of the pillars. “Oops. I’m afraid I got busy in my training regiment and forgot about it. I’m sorry, Florian.”  
“That’s okay,” she assured, walking towards her. “It’s been a while since I came to see you down here.” She raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the pillar?” She pointed at what was left of a crystal pillar that was now a stump on both ends.  
“Oh, that? I put my foot through the pillar,” Frieda explained with a grin. “Felt pretty nice to be able to let out some steam, no pun intended,” she chuckled.  
“At this rate, you’re gonna cave yourself in,” Florian noted, seeing that more than one pillar was missing.  
“Titan shifters have been training down here for several generations. I’m sure that the creators made sure that it would be structurally sound, even if a few of them were broken.” Frieda took a seat, the ground shaking as her weight settled and spread out across the floor.   
“Even sitting down, you’re so big,” Florian said. It was a sight she doubted she’d ever get used to.  
“I think you comment on that every time you see me in Titan form,” Frieda said with a laugh that boomed and echoed through the caves. “Maybe you ought to think of another comment to make, like how stunning I am, or something.”  
The baby of the family rolled her eyes. “You do enough of that every time you look in the mirror.”  
Frieda shook her head slightly. “Can you blame me? All of the women in our family were blessed with beautiful genetics.”  
She shook her head, amused by her sister’s comments. “Humility isn’t in our genetics either, I guess.”  
“What fun would that be?” Frieda chuckled. “What’s new, Flo? Looks like you might have something on your mind.”  
“The usual: being worried about our brothers. I guess I came in here to get away from all the tension.”  
“Uh oh. What did they do this time?” Frieda asked, trying to joke, but she quickly sobered. “Dirk was having fits again, wasn’t he?”  
Florian nodded. “Yeah. I was going to go help him, but Urklyn beat me to it. Maybe he can help… maybe.” Just mentioning Urklyn’s name made her feel uncomfortable.  
“You seem to doubt that. Has anything improved since he came back home?” she asked gently.  
“Well, our brother is back. That’s something.” She shook her head as she tried to dodge the subject. “Why don’t we do something together? You don’t even have to be normal if you don’t want to--I mean, smaller. Smaller!”  
Frieda gave a short laugh, the sound loudly echoing off the caves. “This is just as normal as being human, Florian. It’s just another part of who I am. Although, it is impossible to do some of the more fun things of life in this form. I mean, have you seen a Titan try and read a book? The print is far too miniscule to even consider it.”  
She allowed a small smile to appear. “Maybe I can read to you instead so you aren’t missing out on anything.”  
“Depends on the book. You don’t happen to have a copy of Oedipus Rex in your bag there, do you?” Her eldest sister teased.   
Florian could not prevent the brief, downcast expression on her face. “N-No. Uncle Kenny still has it. He said he’d read it to me one day.”  
“Flo, I have to know something,” Frieda said, noting the expression on her baby sister’s face. “Have you talked to Urklyn at all since he came home? And I don’t mean during family conversations at dinner. I mean, really talk things through with him. You can’t avoid him forever. He’s your brother.”  
“I can’t.” She turned on her heel to avoid facing her sister as she repeatedly shook her head. “I told you what happened, but you weren’t there, Frieda. I thought he was going to… going to…”  
“‘Can’t’ or is that you won’t talk to him? Florian, he’s been different since he returned. You should at least allow him the opportunity to apologize, or give yourself the chance to express how upset you still are at how he went off on you like that.” Frieda blew out a long breath from her massive lips. “I can tell him that you’re still upset and you need to speak to him, but ultimately, it’s up to the both of you to work things out. I would hope that there’s no tension and strife between my siblings before we take the public spotlight.”  
“Can’t you feel it, though?” Florian wondered, staring at her reflection in the crystal pillar. “Things are different. It doesn’t feel right anymore. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know why. Things feel… wrong, somehow.”  
“But what could be wrong? Urklyn is home, Dirk is returning to normal, and I’m preparing to take the throne. Things are going well for all of us,” Frieda pointed out.  
Florian sincerely doubted Dirk would ever return to his old self again after everything, but she chose not to comment on that. “Last time something happened to you, you changed, Frieda. I don’t want this to change you again.”  
“It’s not going to change me. I’m still the same person,” she argued.  
She sighed. “I knew I would sound crazy. Forget I said anything. You can go back to training.” She started to walk back towards the exit.  
“Wait, Florian. Come back, please. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Frieda rose to her feet and started after her. “We don’t have to talk about that if it’s going to keep you frustrated.”  
Florian stopped in her tracks, especially considering there were two, giant feet on opposite sides of her. “Even if it’s for a short time, I just want to pretend these feelings don’t exist. Is that so hard to ask for?”  
“No, it’s not. Flo, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Frieda prodded gently. “I’m your sister. Feelings can be confusing. Believe me, I understand more than you imagine.”  
She looked up in surprise. “Really? What are you… okay, this is weird.” She stepped backwards a bit so that she wasn’t looking at Frieda from a very awkward angle.  
“What are you-- Oh,” a slight blush tinged the Titan’s cheeks. “I’ll just take a seat back here again, how about that?” Without waiting for a response, she went back to her previous place and sat down again.  
“Well, at least I can see your face now,” Florian said, her own face reddening with embarrassment. “Seriously, Frieda, your breasts are that big.”  
The Titan-shifter’s mouth fell open in shock at her sister’s words. “Alright, who are you, and what have you done with Florian? Because my baby sister would never allow something so uncouth to come from her mouth. Who corrupted you?”  
“I’m thirteen now. I can have some form of grown-up talk,” Florian protested. “In fact, it’s lucky I remained innocent for so long despite having you and Abel as sisters.”  
Frieda was rendered speechless for a few moments. “I-uh, well, I suppose you’re not wrong. At least we made up for Mother’s boring “Talks” about growing up, right?” she asked sheepishly.  
“Or, in your case, growing out.”  
“Just you wait, little missy. Your turn is coming, and I don’t envy you the backache that you’ll have until you find properly-fitting undergarments,” the young queen shot back.  
Florian decided to cement her status as a Reiss sibling by doing what they do best: digging themselves deeper. “So that’s why you walk around here naked. Good to know.”  
“Alright, that’s it!” Frieda leaned forward and picked up her little sister, leveling her to her face. “Just for that, you’re going to get the task of trying to make a suitable chest binder for my Titan form. I’ll even be generous and let you attempt to measure it first.”  
The no-longer-innocent baby of the family actually looked shocked by that declaration. “You wouldn’t dare.”  
“And why wouldn’t I? I mean, aren’t I terribly indecent?” Sarcasm dripped from Frieda’s words. “It’s only fitting that I should have some sort of covering for this form too, right?”  
“But Frieda…” It looked like Florian was about to apologize until she came back with, “...with your measurements, animals will go extinct.”  
Frieda’s response was to shove her sister firmly into her chest. “What was that again, Florian? I couldn’t hear you,” she said sweetly.  
Naturally, with the lack of oxygen, she started struggling against the Titan’s “gentle” embrace. She attempted to speak, but no amount of words could overcome the muffling.  
Frieda pulled her away after a few moments, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to breathe too well. “Anything else you want to say, Florian?” she asked.  
“I love you, and I pity any man that comes into your life next,” Florian answered, shaking off the “embrace.”  
“Pity them that they’ll get my breasts?” Frieda winked at her. “In all seriousness, I think Mother is going to have a conniption if I don’t start seeing ‘eligible suitors’ again. But I digress. I love you too, so much. Same goes for all of our siblings. Nothing is going to change that.” She cuddled her baby sister gently against her face.   
Florian couldn’t help but hug her back despite the size difference. Titan hugs were always the best hugs.

\--------------

Dirk didn’t think that he would prefer his tormented sounds of thrashing and screaming as opposed to the dark silence that was around him, but at least his medicinal withdrawal distracted him from the real demons encroaching on him. How could he have been so blind all this time to not see the truth? The more he thought about his father, the more it began to make sense. His mannerisms and grip on control of the family. And Kenny… he was a fucking psychopath. That should have been a dead giveaway from the start.  
The more he thought about his dearly beloved uncle, the more anger he felt. That sadistic bastard took away his dignity and his finger just to screw with his brother’s head. Was that all he and the siblings were to the man? Pawns for a game he didn’t know about? He gazed at his mutilated, scarred hand, clenching it tightly. It looked so wrong without the middle finger, but that didn’t matter anymore. When he whispered into the dark room, the venom in his tone was enough to poison his whole family.  
“You should’ve killed me when you had the chance, you son of a bitch.”


	25. A Puppetmaster's Apprehension

(Stohess District)

Military Police officers usually had to room with someone in Headquarters. For officers rising in the ranks, one way or another, they would be able to purchase their own homes within the Interior. It was a nice goal to look forward to, though few were lucky to even get to that point. Since they weren’t rich nobles, they had no financial way to afford servants, which was a shame considering the interior state of one such house.  
The dining room table collapsed on itself thanks to a severe weight that had pushed it past its limitations. The chairs and the couches had their cushions tossed all around as if there were thrown at an enemy. There were holes in the walls leading to the bedroom that happened to be missing a crucial component: the door. Voices could be heard from inside interlaced with grunts and the sound of a body hitting the wall. Repeatedly.  
“Tell me about the weapons shipment,” a male voice ordered with a growl.  
“You bastard!” a female voice swore, her breath catching on the final word. “My delivery guy should be here within another hour.”  
“Oh, that’s just what I like to hear. Tell me more about these weapons.”  
“Nngh… curved knives perfect for slicing flesh open. Oh, yes! A few more guns when you eventually… break yours.” There was a brief shriek that emitted from the woman. “Ammo. Lots of fucking ammo! Enough to keep even a guy like you from shooting blanks.”  
“Hey, you trying to tell me something?”  
A loud moan erupted from the woman that managed to silence him. “Let’s just say… you aren’t perfect, Kenny,” the woman explained while panting.  
The psychopath of the Interior looked up at her with his typical grin. “Oh, Caven, you wound me. You know how that makes me feel.”  
Corporal Caven rolled her eyes and pushed Kenny away from her. “Drink some water for a change, you unquenchable maniac.”  
He snorted, putting on his hat. “Kill the mood, why don’t you?”  
“Your version of a good time usually involves gunfights and dismemberment. Mine includes physical pursuits that don’t always destroy my fucking house!” She still didn’t put her clothes back on, so she wasn’t that angry at him.  
“Your own damn fault for not having a bigger house,” he responded.  
“Well, in that case, if you want back in, you’ll have to do things my way next time.”  
“Which house are you talking about?”  
“Guess.” With a smirk, Caven mockingly blew a kiss at him as she started cleaning up.  
Kenny glowered at the woman of his… affections wasn’t the word to use. Pastimes seemed more appropriate. “I should shoot you for that, bitch.”  
“Please. I’m the only woman in the entire world who would do more than just tolerate your existence,” she reminded him.   
“In that case, let’s elope. I’ve got the cash for it.”  
Caven scoffed at him. “Kenny, a week in marriage with you would destroy my sex drive. Save it for the repairs you’ll be financing in full.”  
The man leered at her. “Oh, honey, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”  
She threw the empty wine bottle at him, barely missing his head. “Don’t call me honey.”  
He stared at the glass shards. “I’m not paying for that.”  
“You already did. That was the one you brought over.”   
Kenny gave a growl and stalked towards her with lecherous intent. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson.”  
“Oh, dear God, Kenny.” She shoved him back again. “I need my reproductive organs. Look. I’m a naked woman with big breasts and a fine ass. Just… watch and do it yourself.”   
He frowned, taking a seat on the bed. “Ugh, and I thought Rod could kill the mood fast. Oh, yeah. That reminds me: he’s coming over.”  
Caven froze. “When?”  
“Couple of hours from now,” he answered offhandedly. “You should probably put something on by then. He sees you like that, you’ll be the new wife of the Reiss patriarch.”   
The blonde shuddered. “Hell, no. He can keep the old hag he has. I wouldn’t want to be tied into that family.”  
“Should’ve thought of that before you helped me set Kyler up,” Kenny reminded her coldly. “Once you’re entangled with the Reiss family, you’re either useful, or decomposing in the ground.”  
She grinned at him. “Well, lucky for me, I’ve got just the kind of information that will keep me useful. Maybe I’ll even play up the charm, just to see how he responds.”  
“I wouldn’t. He’ll fuck you,” he warned. “Ugly tub of lard doesn’t need a lot of convincing.”  
“Good to know he’s such a weak-minded fool. Great leadership for humanity,” she quipped sarcastically.  
“Well, with his precious daughter taking the throne, I think we’ll start seeing some changes.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, Caven, wanna be a Titan?”  
“Fuck, no! I don’t need that kind of bullshit. I’ve already got my hands full trying to handle you, and keep my superiors off my ass.”  
“But think about the good stuff,” he told her.  
She gave him a blank look. “You just want an excuse to have sex with a woman the size of a four-story building.”  
“You only live once.”  
Caven just stared at him for a long time. Then, a smirk came on her face. “I’ll pass… but why don’t you tell me what you’d do if I said yes.”  
Kenny knew that tone and lunged at her with his trademark speed.

\--------------------------

It wasn’t unusual for there to be raised voices when the nobles gathered to discuss politics within the walls of the castle in Wall Sina. What was unusual was for such robust conversations to take place before a formal meeting had even started. And yet, such was the case this particular morning. The boardroom where Frieda had “solved the food shortage” two years before was filled with many of the same faces as before. Notably absent, however, was the young queen herself, and the dead traitor, Mikkel Haus.   
Finally having had enough of the yelling, Rod cleared his throat loudly. “Gentlemen, please take your seats.”  
“Rod, do you have any idea what your daughter managed to spark?” Aurille demanded, slamming his hand on the table in a fit of rage. “She might as well have said, ‘Will all nobles please form a line at the noose, please?”’  
Caspar Bohn, the youngest and also the only new face in the room, snorted. “That would have gone over even better than Miss Stadler’s history lecture.” The red-haired man shook his head. “Whose idea was it to have her give a speech anyway?”  
Carl gave him a flabbergasted look. “That’s your biggest concern? A boring lecture on the history of this country, boy?”  
Aurille paid them no heed as his target was the big man himself. “Damn it, Rod. You can’t let her take the throne. She’ll throw everything we’ve worked so hard to make into the fire.”  
“You act as if she’s going to take over full rulership with nobody to guide her. Have you forgotten? She is my daughter. She will be leading under my direct supervision. She won’t have ultimate power, no matter how much she wishes it,” Rod fired back, glaring at the noble asshole.  
Emeric cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “Rod, your children… we need to talk about them. While we don’t doubt your commitment to the ruling of this nation, your heirs haven’t done you any favors. A bar fight that led to your eldest son’s arrest, and the outburst your youngest son delivered during the Queen’s sermon. They have raised many questions and concerns.”  
Rod turned his attention to Emeric. “Need I remind you about your own son’s indiscretions? Running away with his boyfriend and leaving his fiancée at the altar is hardly any less concerning.”  
“Except Emeric is not the head of the Royal Family. You are,” Henri pointed out casually. “If there’s one thing we all in agreement on, it’s that your children have a history of being… unruly and inappropriate.”  
“You think Frieda appearing before a suitor in her birthday suit was going to be forgotten?” Aurille spat. “Your children are this country’s future rulers. After you’re gone, what do you think is going to happen?”  
“And having us killed won’t change that,” Carl added for good measure. “The problem still remains minus our criticisms.”  
Rod slammed his hands on the table. “Silence! You forget your places. These are children. They can be unruly at times, yes, but what child is not? I am taking measures to rectify the mistakes of the past and not allowing them to continue going forward. These were growing pains, and they are well on their way to becoming the upstanding men and women that the future of humanity needs. Frieda is ready. She’s grown and developed into a fine, young woman over the past two years. This is not my decision. This is hers. She is requesting that she be given more responsibility in overseeing humanity and solving the ongoing Titan crisis.”  
Henri sighed and began pacing back and forth. “Alright. There’s a best case scenario and a worst case. Best case is Frieda gets what she wants and doesn’t interfere negatively with our lives. Say she does try to go after us after achieving the crown. What then? You’re a survivor, Rod. That much is clear. What contingencies do you have in mind?”   
“As I stated earlier, she will not be ruling independently. She will still be under guidance from yours truly, as well as the entire group here acting as advisors. Even as much as I trust her, it’s foolish to hand the entire rule of humanity over to a twenty-one year old woman,” Rod explained. “As we witnessed, at times, she can be, rather emotional.”  
“Which brings me to my next point. She is your daughter; therefore, she’s liable to make her own rules to suit her benefits,” Henri added. “If she turns her attention on us, on you even, what then?”  
“She won’t,” Rod replied confidently. “And even if she tried, she would fail. She has no support, no friends within the Walls. Even if some of the common folk support her, without the network of nobility that support her exclusively, any attempts to go against me would avail her nothing.”  
Aurille glowered at the man. “That damn goddess you pray to, you’d better pray that you’re right. Mikkel was replaceable, but the rest of us aren’t. If you’re wrong, if things go south… you’ll find that same network you’ve built coming after you.”  
Eyes blazing with fury, Rod pulled out one of his own, personal guns and aimed it at the asshole’s head. “You put too much stock in your life, Aurille,” he said quietly. “Without me, what would you have? Being a pig farmer in Wall Maria would be the highlight of your life.”  
The noble smirked back. “And without me, you’d lose half the informants your family has gathered over the years. I am the face for all those people. Could the great Rod Reiss be able to live in a world where you don’t know everything that goes on in his own country? If you can, pull the trigger now.”  
Caspar leaned forward in his seat, his eyes darting between the pair. This was his second time being included in these meetings, and silently relished the tense entertainment this was providing.  
Rod lowered his weapon, but the stony expression stayed on his face as he spoke. “Each one of you is here because you have an important role to play when it comes to ruling the Walls. You claim loyalty to the ruler, and until Frieda takes the throne, and even after, you will answer to me. Mikkel died because of his treachery. Don’t think I won’t hesitate to end any of you if you decide to act against me.”  
The five nobles glanced at each other, Caspar having some nervousness attached to his expression, before giving nods to Rod. With that out of the way, they were sent off to due their duties, but Henri remained behind.  
“Rod, do you have a moment?” he asked once everyone was gone.  
“What do you need, Henri?” Rod asked bluntly.  
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I did some digging into Corporal Caven. It’s confirmed that she is an arms dealer, but all the pies she has her fingers in are impressive. She’s careful, too. Not selling weapons at one area for too long, even goes so far to make deals with the other side so that she can’t be easily tracked.”  
Rod took the sheet of paper, and unfolded it, skimming the contents quickly. “Impressive. She was part of the investigation against Corporal Hauer, even providing the smoking gun to her ‘traitorous acts’… Now, this is interesting. She aided in taking down Sgt. Engel for arms dealing. Taking out the competition. Sounds like she’s rather ruthless.”  
“She is,” Henri confirmed. “She’s rising up the ranks quick. I also checked out the information she gave us concerning a contact of the Restorer. Lieutenant Sigmund Blau of the Garrison. He took a position guarding the Walls within the Interior, and, like all the rest, took up drinking to pass the time. Apparently, certain people of our network felt more confident to have loose lips around drunkards who probably won’t remember their own birthdays by the morning.”  
Rod nodded. “Thanks for the information. This should make my interactions with her later this afternoon quite interesting.”  
“Just be careful, Rod,” his friend warned. “She may be a woman, but she will probably feed you your own teeth if you try anything.”  
“This is a business meeting, not a social visit. I’m sure I can handle this woman. Besides, I’m sending my bodyguard first to make sure that she’s ready for our discussion.” 

\-------------------------------

“Are you sure this necessary, and not just another of your stupid fantasies?” Caven glared at Kenny.  
The blonde woman was now wearing pants, a black lace bra, and a see-through blouse, her blue eyes flashing with anger. At the moment, the psychopath was binding her hands and feet to a chair in front of the broken table. The cushions had all been replaced, and the room was back to looking semi-normal, if you ignored the table. And the holes in the walls. And the weapons on the couch.  
“Look, if you’re not tied up, he’s not gonna feel safe. Consider this me making everyone happy.” Kenny smirked at her.  
“Don’t look so smug, you bastard.” She let out an annoyed grunt. “I helped you frame Kyler, and I’m your weapons supplier. Isn’t that enough for your boss?”  
“Rod’s a paranoid asshole, sweetheart,” he said simply. “He suspected his own son of treason. Keep that in mind.”  
Caven shook her head. “Fine, but you’d better convince him quickly. These ropes are cutting into my skin.”  
“Oh, that was for the wine bottle you threw at me.”  
Before the two could continue their banter, the front door was opened without even a knock. Rod entered the house with a cold look on his face. “Good afternoon, Corporal. I trust that Kenny has been…” He stopped when he noticed the damage. “What happened here?”  
“Unfinished renovations,” Caven answered coolly. “Kenny was kind enough to provide some for me.”  
“I didn’t even need a hammer,” Kenny added.  
“Forget it. I don’t want to know.” Rod cleared his throat and gazed at the woman intently. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself, Corporal, legitimately and illegitimately. A steady job in the Military Police, and an infamous arms dealer on the side. Impressive.”  
“Buttering up both sides of the bread, I see,” Caven noted, masking her annoyance with the man’s tendency to monologue. “Where are you going with this?”  
“I remember the first time that you got involved with my family.” He took a seat across from her. “You were an opportunistic private looking for anything to help you rise above your current station. So, when Kyler Hauer was accused of treason, you jumped at the chance to prove it. A few well-placed documents and “witnesses” here and there, and the traitor was unmasked, and you were promoted.”  
“Thank you for telling me everything that I already know, Lord Reiss, but I’m waiting for you to get to the point,” she said tersely.  
Rod ignored her. Typical. “Even as a corporal, you still have that opportunistic streak within you, which makes you both a valuable ally in what I have planned… and a possible liability. Tell me, Corporal, which one are you going to be?”  
Caven didn’t even hesitate. “Considering how you were able to string together false charges against my superior officer in less than a week and completely destroy her reputation, I’d be a fool to go against you. What is it you want from me?”  
“Ever heard of a man named Henri Nach?”  
She nodded. “Former captain within the Military Police. Took up a seat within the government. Why? You looking for a hit job? I’m sure Kenny’s more than capable of such a feat.”  
“He is, but that’s hardly the reason I brought him up,” he corrected. “You will be reporting to him on the Military Police activities he cannot obtain with his position. Commander Dok can only provide him so much, and the allies Henri has are not deep enough to search every corner of the regiment.”  
“And you thought of me. I’m flattered.” She gave him a cold look. “What’s in it for me?”  
“You will be compensated accordingly depending on the information I receive, and you get to continue living.” The icy tone in his voice was enough to freeze an entire district. “There is more you will be doing on top of this.” Rod stood up and stared out the window. “Outside of these Walls lie the Scout Regiment. You know them as the regiment no sane person would dare join without seeking a death wish. They seek freedom from the Titans, but I have reason to believe that by seeking freedom, they will eventually turn their sights on us.” He glanced back at her. “Which is why you will help create the First Interior Squad, an elite army of officers able to exterminate any threats using ODM gear. Kenny Ackerman will be placed in charge of said squad.”  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” The psychopath popped off the wall he was leaning against and gave the man a confounded look. “You trying to turn me into a law man, Rod? I’d rather eat a bullet.”  
“That can be arranged,” Rod assured, crossing his arms. “But if that’s how you wish to die because you couldn’t let go of your pride to uphold to oath you swore to my family… what a waste.”  
Kenny’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “That same, damn regiment hunted down the Ackermans and Asians ever since the fucking creation of this country. You expect me to work with them?”  
“What happened in the past is irrelevant, Kenny. That’s why I haven’t killed you ever since you and my brother first met.”  
“I’m still a wanted man, Rod. How the hell are you going to explain me going from ‘The Most Wanted Man in the Walls’ to training the fucking Military Police?” Kenny shot back.  
“Simple: I don’t. Each member of this squad will follow orders to the letter without question. If they try to out you as training them, they will face the ultimate consequence, something I believe you have no issue doing.” Rod glared up at the taller man. “This is not up for debate, Kenny. You will form that squad, you will make sure they are ready, or I’ll do what my brother failed to do and cut your head off. Is that clear?”  
The bodyguard immediately put a gun against Rod’s head. “What if I say, ‘Go fuck yourself, you old tub of lard,’ and shoot you now?”  
To Caven’s astonishment, Rod had the audacity to smirk at him. “You won’t. Not when I have something you desperately want, Kenny.”  
“And what’s that?”  
“A reason to exist. That’s what my brother gave to you that day. He could’ve just snuffed out your life in the blink of an eye, but he didn’t. He felt pity for the discrimination your people suffered, felt pity for you. With that pity, he gave you a means to use your talents to something meaningful. You willing to throw that all away just because you don’t like the Military Police?”  
Kenny’s glare intensified as he rested a finger on the trigger. One push and he could say goodbye to this pathetic man. It was so easy… and yet, he found himself lowering his weapon and a grin stretching across his face. “Well, who am I to argue with the great Lord Reiss?”   
“Keep that in mind the next time you have an urge to shoot me,” he warned, smoothing out his suit to remove any wrinkles that encounter gave him. “The world is changing, and we are the humans lucky enough to witness it, but the security of these Walls must remain. That will be all.” With that, he exited the house, hoping never to return to this love den Kenny and Caven created. “Dear Goddess, I need a drink,” he muttered as he entered the carriage.


	26. Unexpected Confessions

Never in his life did Dillon believe he would ever reach a day where he was exchanging letters with a cute girl. Not just any girl, but one from the freaking Reiss family. Well, she didn’t exactly scream nobility by the way she spoke, though he supposed that made things a little easier when writing to her. Unfortunately, he was stuck at the dining table trying to figure out what to talk about. The last one was about new weapons he and his father were adding to the inventory. The one before that, questions about what it was like to be part of a noble family. The way Abel, or “Meghan” as she was called in the letters, described her family made Dillon feel relieved he was an only child… somewhat.  
“Still stuck on the first sentence?” a voice asked behind him, making him jump.   
“A little warning next time, Mom,” Dillon responded as his heart attempted to calm down from that surprise.  
“Sorry.” Carolyn let out a soft chuckle and took a seat next to him. “You don’t have write a letter every day. You can take a break and enjoy life. You’ll have something to talk about then.”  
“She’s able to pull it off,” he muttered, frustrated. “Every single day, I’m learning something new about her and her family. Did you know she has two brothers named Bert and Arnulf? I swear, those names sound like something you cough up.”  
“Be nice, Dillon,” she rebuked. “If they ever show up here, it would be bad manners to giggle at their names.”  
“I don’t giggle! I… cough quietly.”  
Carolyn shook her head. “In any case, you really should take a breather. Take a walk. Who knows? Maybe something strange will happen and you can write about that.”  
“I could always talk about one of your cases,” Dillon suggested.  
“Oh, sure. Write to her about a serial rapist I’m trying to get convicted.”  
“On second thought, maybe not.” He sighed and placed the pen down.  
“I am happy for you,” she assured with a warm smile. “Despite what your father might say, I think it’s really encouraging to see you establishing a relationship with someone.”  
His face flushed with embarrassment. “Y-Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”  
She patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll come up with the right words to say. It doesn’t have to be eloquent or anything like that. Just be yourself. She already likes that, or else she wouldn’t have chosen to exchange letters with you so frequently.  
“Was it like this when you and Dad were in love?” he asked curiously.   
Carolyn laughed. “At first? Not at all. He seemed like he hated my guts when we first crossed paths at that dance. But, as it turns out, he was just a socially-awkward guy who didn’t know the first thing about talking to young women. The next time we saw each other, things were a touch better, until he finally requested to court me directly. You should have seen his face when he asked me! I’ve never seen a man look more embarrassed, even to this day.”  
It was difficult for Dillon to imagine his hardass of a father to be socially-awkward, let alone to that extent. If only he could’ve seen him that day. Such wonderful blackmail material. “Well, as long as he doesn’t try to use his scare tactics on this girl, I should be fine.”  
“You let me worry about your father,” Carolyn stood. “Focus on being yourself and communicating well, and the relationship will progress and prosper.”  
Dillon looked up at her. “Thanks, Mom. I better get back to this, otherwise she’s not going to get the letter today.”  
His mother flashed him a smile. “I shall leave you to it then. You’ve got about an hour before your father will need you in the forge. You should have time, if you’re focused.” With that, she left him to his pen and paper, heading down the hall to her office.   
Dillon watched her go, tapping the back of his pen against his face. A thought came to him, and he grinned as he bent over and began his letter.

\----------------------------------------

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t just go with Urklyn and let me enjoy my break from the tutor at the house,” Florian whined. “I had a new book that I wanted to read.”  
“What part of ‘sibling bonding time’ did you not get?” Urklyn explained patiently. “It’s been too long since the three of us did something together, and besides, it would do you some good to get out of your stuffy room.”  
“I thought you liked hanging out with us too, Flo. Nice to see how much you really care,” Abel snarked, flashing her sister a grin. “Come on. It’s only for a couple hours, and then you can get back to your romance novel.”  
“Hey! It’s not a romance novel! It’s an adventure story,” Florian protested. “While there might be a hint of romance between the two main characters, that doesn’t mean that it’s nothing more than a romantic tale.”  
“Hate to disagree with you, but that means it’s more romance than adventure,” Urklyn pointed out. “If it was nothing more than an ‘adventure tale’, there would be no elements of romance in it whatsoever. Most adventure stories are geared toward boys, and we don’t have as much of an inclination toward the more girly stuff, like ‘who likes whom,’ etc.”  
Florian huffed but didn’t say anything more, following her elder brother and sister outside to the waiting carriage. Once the trio was seated inside, she had another question. “So, if this is sibling bonding time, then where is Dirk? Shouldn’t he be with us too?”  
“He’s at the tailor with Mother, being fitted for new clothing. After dropping some weight with all that had happened, he needed some new pants that didn’t risk falling to the floor any time he moved,” Abel giggled. “That would have been embarrassing, especially in public.”  
"And Frieda's off doing… whatever queen preparations Father has planned," Urklyn added. "So, it's just us three for today."  
“And where are you taking us then? Some sort of errand or something?” Florian asked, looking bored.  
"Well, we've got two things on the agenda today. First up is a certain place in which one can partake in, shall we say, literary activities," Urklyn explained with a knowing smirk.  
“Also known as, the book shop. Maybe this time you won’t have to spend so long looking for a certain book,” Abel poked her sister in the ribs.  
“Not funny, Abel,” Florian scowled at her. “It’s not my fault that I have a hard time choosing novels that look interesting.”  
"Well, an hour should be enough time for you to find what you're looking for," Urklyn hoped. "After all, you aren't quite as bad as a certain sister of ours, not mentioning any names, who spends a good three hours finding the right dress that 'suits her personality.'"  
Abel elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “That was one time! Just one time!”  
"One. Very. Long. Time."  
“We get it. An hour at the book shop. Then what’s the second stop?” Florian asked, rolling her eyes.  
"I need to go check on how the sword at Amsdale's Forge is coming along," Urklyn answered. "I promised Father I'd do so."  
“Count me out. I don’t want to spend time in a musty, old forge if I don’t have to. Since you’re getting me a book, I’ll just wait in the carriage with that to entertain myself.” Florian crossed her arms stubbornly.   
Urklyn gave long-tired sigh. "As you wish. They've got all kinds of weapons in there, though. Swords of all kinds, knives, I even saw a war hammer hanging on the wall." He drummed his chin in contemplation. "Come to think of it, wasn't there a morning star in there, too?"  
“Oh, there was. The knives were the best, in my personal opinion,” Abel grinned at him, then turned her attention on her sister. “You should at least check it out once.”  
“No thanks. You know as well as I know do that Mother won’t let me even think about touching anything with a sharp blade or anything cool like that. She’ll say some bull about how I’m ‘too young’ or ‘it’s not safe for you’ and lecture on and on.” The baby of the family huffed again. “I’d just as soon avoid the incessant lecturing.”  
Big words. She's turning into a proper noble. "Well… I can keep a secret if you can," Urklyn offered.  
“I’ll think about it.” She turned to look out the window, leaving the discussion there.  
Urklyn's face fell slightly. He used to be able to persuade Florian with relative ease, especially when it dealt with things he knew she was interested in. Instead, he was dealing with an obstinate teenager who was channeling her inner Abel. Either that… or maybe it was because he was the one to suggest it.

\---------------------------------------

Abel could feel her excitement growing as the carriage drew closer to the Forge. She was secretly hoping to put aside some of the cold tension that had fallen over the trio after Urklyn and Florian’s slight disagreement. Her sister now had her nose buried in her new book, and Urklyn was watching the scenery out the window. Ever since she’d begun exchanging letters with Dillon, she felt that she’d gotten a glimpse into a world that was entirely different from that of being within the Reiss family. Maybe, just maybe, she would have a chance to talk to him without Urklyn looking over her shoulder. A soft blush creeped up over her cheeks, and she tried to ignore it.  
After years of waiting, or years from the perspective of an impatient teenager, the carriage slowed to a halt in front of the familiar house and shop Abel had come to yearn to see again.  
"Last chance, Florian," Urklyn said as he opened the door.  
“I’m fine here, thanks. Take your time,” she replied, her eyes not even lifting from the page she was reading.  
Abel hopped down from the carriage and glanced back at her sister. “Well, at least you won’t be bored. You know where we will be,” she said, then turned around as she caught sight of a familiar head of brown hair. “I’ll catch up with you in a couple minutes, Urklyn.”  
He raised an eyebrow at her. "What's going on?"  
“I have to use the ladies’ room,” she fibbed. “I’ll meet you back in the shop once I’m finished.”  
"As opposed to when you aren't finished. Good to know." Ruffling his sister's hair, he headed straight for the forge.  
Abel didn’t wait to see him leave before she picked up her skirt and ran the short distance to the small alleyway between the shop and the neighboring house. “For a moment there, I thought Urklyn was going to catch on,” she sighed with relief as she came to a stop by Dillon. “Did you get my last letter?”  
He nodded, handing her an envelope. "Yeah. Sorry it took so long to write a response. I'm running out of interesting things to talk about."  
She snorted. “Yeah, right. You don’t have the same, dull routine each and every day. Family meals where your siblings won’t shut up, tutors that drone on forever, and a mother who lectures you if you even think of stepping a toe outside her expectations.”  
Dillon chuckled nervously. "Okay, that's fair. Unfortunately, aside from the sword for your sister, there hasn't been a project to keep myself busy. Maybe it's for the best."  
Abel cocked her head to the side. “Why would it be for the best?”  
"Because I get to focus more on you."  
Abel’s face flushed beet red. “I, I, umm. Thanks, I think?” she stammered, for once at a loss for words.  
He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm trying out flirting. How'd I do?"  
If it was even possible, her face turned even darker red. “You… you succeeded,” she squeaked. “I don’t know how to respond to that.” Holy shit, he’s flirting with me! HOLY SHIT! Abel was sure that her brain was going to hiccup if she allowed herself to think too much about it.  
"Neither do I," he admitted. "This was as far as I planned."  
“Wait, you planned on saying something like that?” Abel’s mouth fell open. “But, why?”  
"Well…" Now it was his turn for his face to redden. "You see… I think you're nice and I like you. I mean, I'm not trying to propose to you or anything. Not saying that it won't happen. Did I say that? Pretend I didn't say that. Gah!" He clutched his head. "I can't figure out what I'm supposed to say."  
On impulse, Abel closed the final few feet and wrapped him in a hug. “It’s okay. I.. I like you, too. We can just, I don’t know… see where things go?” she said lamely, hiding her red face in his shoulder.  
Dillon was at a loss for words. He was getting hugged. By a girl. That liked him. Yes!  
Abel awkwardly stepped back after a long minute. “Well, umm, this is awkward,” she said slowly. “I have no idea what to say now.”  
"Me, too," Dillon said, shuffling his feet across the ground. "Actually, there is one thing: we should probably should head back to the shop if we want to avoid getting caught."  
Abel’s eyes widened. “Shit, you’re right. The last thing we need is for them to come looking for us.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the shop. “Let’s go!”  
"H-Hey, wait a minute!" Dillon protested as he pulled himself free of her grasp. "You drag me into the shop, and they're gonna figure it out faster than any cover story we could come up with."  
Her face flushed again. “Y-you’re right. Sorry about that,” she apologized quickly. “Lead the way. If they ask, I was showing you my new knife-throwing skills.”  
He shook his head. "My parents will see through that lie in a heartbeat. What was your excuse for coming here?"  
“I needed the ladies’ room.” Abel looked at her shoes. “Unless you meant coming with Urklyn. He just wanted company and ‘sibling bonding time’.”  
"Just head back to the shop without me. I can keep myself busy so none of this looks suspicious."   
She nodded. “Thanks, Dillon. You’re the best.”  
"Can you tell my parents that?" he joked.  
“I’ll do my best.” She grinned at him before turning on her heel, walking slowly to the shop.  
"And get some pants while you're at it!" he called out to her.  
She turned and blew a raspberry at him. “It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t have them clean to wear today!”  
Dillon shook his head and waved at her. “I’ll look for your letter tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? You’re too pretty to die.”  
“You have my word,” she promised, and turned the corner, disappearing from his line of sight. Dillon breathed out a sigh. She liked him! He had flirted and she had reacted positively. He gave a victory fist pump, then made his way back toward the forge, pride swelling in his chest. 

\---------------------------------------------

Florian exhaled as she finished the first chapter of the new book. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go into the forge shop. She honestly thought it might be kind of fun to do. But Urklyn hadn’t given her the choice to come with them. He hadn’t asked if it was something that she wanted to be a part of. He’d issued an apology after his return from prison, yet she couldn’t find it in her heart to trust him fully again. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened. Everything that he had said that night. She still had moments where his words rang in her head. She wasn’t sure what to make of what he’d said about their family. She hoped he was wrong, but unease had taken root that evening and hadn’t gone away since.  
It didn’t help matters that she took notice of an anomaly within the carriage. A small, folded piece of paper rested on the cushion where her brother had been seated. He was in such a rush, he probably hadn’t realized his mistake yet. Curiosity began taking root in her mind as she began to ponder the contents of paper. It could be details on the sword that needed to be added for whatever reason. However, ever since that evening, that horrible evening, she never forgot the words of her brother.  
“Oh, innoshent, little Florian, you have no idea the kind of monscter your preciousshhh Daddy is.”   
Could it be…?  
Florian’s curiosity overrode any fear she had of Urklyn as she swiped the paper. Carefully, she unfolded it in a way that wouldn’t give away that someone read this before him. Years of Abel stealing Frieda’s mail taught her such a tactic. With every word that was read, her eyes slowly widened and her jaw collapsed open.  
“Kyler’s replacement works for Rod. Don’t ask how I know. Too disturbing. Worse: Kenny the Ripper is getting a full pardon by the government in exchange for help training the new generation of MPs. Details unknown. Be careful.”   
Hearing footsteps approaching the carriage, she re-folded the paper quickly and shoved it back onto the seat where she’d found it. She re-opened her book and stared at one of the pages, not reading the words when Urklyn poked his head inside. “Just checking to see how you’re doing. We’ve got another few minutes here if you want to come inside, Flo.”  
She shook her head, keeping her eyes glued on the page. “No thanks. It’s just starting to get good.”  
Her eldest brother shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind…”  
She pretended not to notice his hand slip inside the carriage to grab and pocket the scrap of paper. “I’m fine. Just let me read,” she said bluntly.  
Urklyn narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything more, closing the door as swiftly as he had opened it.  
Once he was gone, the baby of the Reiss family closed her book and put her head in her hands, her breathing coming in short pants. She was in a state of shock at what she had read. Urklyn, her own brother, was betraying their family, selling secrets to whoever was here. The trip, the shopping, the sword? It was all a sham, a front to cover his tracks. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, and yet there it was, in black and white. She wanted to scream, to curse, to talk through all of this with someone, to help her understand. But who would believe her? Whom could she trust? Only one person came to mind. The one person who had been there for her on that awful night. She only had to keep things together until she could talk to her. She could pretend that everything was okay until they got home.   
A few minutes later, the carriage door opened once more, and Abel climbed in next to her sister and kicked her feet up on the cushions. “Sorry, Urkie, you’ve got to take the seat over there. Call it payback for not letting me get that gorgeous dagger.”  
Urklyn snorted. “You have no need for a pearl-handled dagger. Besides, I already got you a knife, remember?” He closed the door and took his seat across from the girls as the carriage got underway. “You stopped reading, Flo. Everything okay?”  
Florian forced a grin. “Yes. I just have a bit of a headache,” she lied.  
Abel glanced at her. “All of that time indoors and reading is starting to make you sick. Maybe you better have some time outside once we get home.”  
“I was contemplating taking a bit of a walk,” the baby of the family admitted.  
Urklyn couldn’t help but feel something was off. Earlier, while she was acting a bit bratty, Florian was talkative. Now, it was like she was closing in on herself, keeping herself brief. Between when he left her and came back, something changed. Then, he remembered the note he left behind.  
In that instant, Florian dared to glance up at her brother, her eyes meeting his as the realization struck him. He knew. Somehow, he had figured out that she had read the note. She looked away, her mind racing. She didn’t want to face him, or hear anything that he had to say. She would have to make her escape quickly once they got home, and pray that Frieda would be in the Crystal Caverns, and hope that Urklyn wouldn’t follow.   
What the hell was he going to do now? So much had happened between him and Flo, so much damage he caused. He knew he couldn’t let her talk to their parents, Frieda, and especially not Kenny. That being said, it wasn’t like he could keep her imprisoned. He needed to act fast and decisively before everything blew up in his face again. He wasn’t about to waste the second chance that was given to him. So, he waited, the carriage falling into an uncomfortable silence.  
The trip back seemed to take even longer, and the tension was so thick even Abel began to notice. She wanted to comment on it, but she knew the two had a fractured bond that needed to be fixed. For once, she kept her mouth shut.  
Hours seemed to pass before they finally came to a stop at their home.  
“Abel, you go on inside,” Urklyn spoke before anything could happen. “I need to speak to Florian alone.”   
The instant that the carriage door opened, Florian bolted, leaving her book on the seat. She nearly tripped on the step, but recovered, hiking up her skirt and running as fast as she could toward the entrance to the caves.  
Abel glanced between her sister’s retreating form and her older brother. “Whatever is going on, good luck.”  
Urklyn groaned as he gave pursuit. “Damn it!” Without a skirt to hold him back and longer legs, the eldest brother charged after Florian as she fumbled with getting the entrance open. However, she managed to pull open the secret door and head down the stairs just as Urklyn came to the entrance. He pursued her, slamming the door behind him so that their voices wouldn’t be heard. Now, he could shout. “Florian, stop!”  
“NO!” she replied, running faster. “FRIEDA! FRIEDA!” she screamed, racing toward the area their sister usually trained in.  
“She’s not here, remember? Queen training!” It didn’t take long for Urklyn to reach her, and he did the only thing he could do. He wrestled her to the floor, locking her arm behind her back to prevent her from retaliating. “Listen to me, and I’ll tell you everything!”  
“Let me go!” She twisted against him, but lacked the strength to budge him. “Don’t hurt me!” She tried to shield her face with her other arm.  
Panting heavily, Urklyn toned his voice down. “I’m not going to hurt you, Florian, but you have to listen to me. There are things about this family you have no idea about, things that were shielded from you for one reason or another.” He gripped her tighter as she attempted to struggle. “Damn it, Flo! Kenny’s responsible for what happened to Dirk!”  
Florian froze. “What?”  
Now that he had her attention, Urklyn released her and sat across from her. “Brace yourself. The truth isn’t going to be easy to hear, but I can prove it.”  
Florian sat up slowly, and pushed her back against one of the pillars. “You’re lying! How could you even say such a thing?”  
He sighed, grateful that she didn’t try to run again. “Before I can get to that, there are things you need to know first. Our father will do anything to ensure our family remains in power… even if it means killing anybody he deems a threat. Underneath the ground in the background are unmarked tombs of bodies. Seventeen, to be exact. I helped him bury half of them.”  
Florian’s mouth fell open. “S-seventeen? Father did that?”  
“Some of them, yes, but most of them are there because of Kenny. Do you want to know why he’s so good at training us how to fight, how he knows so much about weapons? He’s murdered hundreds of people either by his own volition or under our father’s orders. The Garbers, Carly Stratmann, that one merchant from the scarf store? All Kenny’s doing.”  
Florian looked at her hands to avoid her brother's stare. Sure, Kenny was rough around the edges, to put it mildly, but a murderer? A kidnapper? None of it made any sense. It was impossible. “Even if that was true, why… why would he do such a thing to Dirk? He’s been an uncle to us.”  
This would never be easy to admit, even if Dirk forgave him. “Because I’m part of a group dedicated to bringing our father down. Not you, not Frieda, not Dirk, and certainly not Abel. Just our father.”  
The silence between them was so great, a pin could drop and it would echo throughout the caverns. "You… all this time…" Florian struggled to find the words to say. "How long?"  
"I've been against Father for years, but it wasn't until that Titan tried to kill Frieda that I started to work against him."  
"How could you?" Florian's eyes glistened with tears. "He's been looking out for us ever since we were born."  
"He only cares about himself, Flo," he stated cruelly. "We're all just a mean to an--"  
A sound similar to a crack resounded off the walls of the caves. Even if it was just a slap, Florian could really pack a good hit. "Don't you dare talk about selfishness after what you put us through!" she shouted, the tears flowing freely. "For years, we've been worried about you, and now, you tell me you've been trying to destroy our father. He's been there for us more than you've ever been. Everything he's done has been for the sake of our family. You've been trying to destroy us. I don't care if there are bodies in the ground. That tells me Father will do anything to keep us safe. That's all that matters!"  
Urklyn seemed to curl into himself. "You don't understand. You don't understand."  
"I don't care! You're so desperate to look for a monster that you forgot to look in the mirror!" She was so disgusted, so furious, being in the same vicinity as him made her feel unclean. She stalked towards the exit without even thinking of looking back.  
"People are suffering and dying outside these walls," Urklyn whispered. "All because of us."  
Florian froze in her tracks, his words rooting her to the ground.  
"250,000 people were slaughtered to give assholes like us more time to live. You want to talk selfishness? Throw a rock. You'll find that everyone would sooner toss a Wall Maria refugee from the highest building if it meant staying comfortable and safe. No one cares about them. Frieda pretends to make herself look good. This is bigger than our family, Flo. It always has been."  
"...All I wanted was my brother back. Is that so selfish?" Having enough, Florian left the shell of his former self alone to wallow in his misery.   
"You don't understand. You don't understand. You don't understand." Today, he would suffer alone with only the caves and the crystals within them to keep him company. He failed, and now he lost his baby sister.  
Florian practically collapsed at the exit, panting heavily. That man back there wasn't her brother. He was… what was he? She could barely think straight with everything she learned. She desperately wished Frieda were here to help her make sense of things, but what would she do to Urklyn? That thought scared her. If their family got wind of what was going on...   
Even now, despite all the lies he spewed, she still loved her brother. She didn't want him to get hurt or worse. Inwardly, she decided to keep this a secret. She didn't want the family to go through more strife than they already have, especially with Frieda's coronation on the horizon. Florian's family meant everything to her, and no one, not even Urklyn, was going to take that away from her. All she could do was pray that he wouldn't make her choose. If that day came, she would prepare for Urklyn's funeral.


	27. The Queen's Education

Of the many roles that the ruler of humanity held, not the least of these was being kept up to date on the status of the military branches. From the foolhardy Scouts seeking to explore beyond the Walls, to the Garrison who spent their time providing security at the gates and atop the Walls themselves, to the Military Police tasked with keeping the peace within... all were under the supreme headship of one man. Darius Zackley held this position for the time being, acting as general over all three divisions. A step below Zackley were the Commanders for each individual branch, and below the commanders were the Captains and Squad leaders that oversaw the day to day runnings of their subordinates.   
In the six months that had passed since Frieda’s declaration that she intended to take the throne publicly, she had thrust herself headlong into proving that she was ready for the responsibility of being queen. She met with nobles almost on a daily basis, answering questions and utilizing her problem-solving skills. She was present for nearly every meeting that her father organized for ensuring that things were running smoothly for the rulership of the Walls. If she had to complain about one thing, it was the lack of details she could glean from the military branches. She had spoken at length with Zackley, unimpressed with the vague terms that the man used in reference to the state of military affairs. The man seemed to lack respect for her, something that irritated Frieda tremendously. She was unable to tell if this was due to her status as a noble, or the fact that she was a woman. She did have to commend him for his loyalty to the King, however. The man’s intelligence was certainly refreshing compared to some of the other nobles that her father seemed to enjoy interacting with.  
After a second attempt to communicate with Zackley that availed her nothing in regards to gaining clarity concerning how things ran day-to-day, the young queen changed her tactics. She made it a point to go and speak with the commanders of each branch individually, under the guise of educating herself as a noble on what things were like for the people who “did so much good for all of us within the Walls.” On the first day, she approached Commander Nile Dok, a man she had seen in her father’s meetings from time to time, though he wasn’t in the inner circle.  
“I apologize that the tour of Headquarters was lackluster,” the commander said as he led Frieda to his office. “Most of my men are making their rounds as we speak.”  
“No need for apologies, Commander. I thank you for the insight into the role of the Military Police. I did, however, have several questions for you, if you have several minutes to spare.”  
“Of course. Please, have a seat.” He gestured towards a cushy chair. Apparently, even he couldn’t help but have a few indulgences.  
The young queen took the offered seat, and then began. “I was hoping you might be able to clarify something for me. Where exactly does the coverage of the Military Police end and the Garrison take over?”  
“The Garrison is in charge of guarding the Walls as well as keeping the peace in towns near said Walls,” Nile answered. “We handle the cities and towns deeper into the territories. Of course, in Wall Rose, the Garrison and Military Police assigned there have to work together. It’s created some… issues, to put it mildly.”  
Frieda pondered this for a moment. “What issues are you referring to?”  
Nile let out a sigh, disappointed about the state of events. “When you enlist in the military, only the top 10 cadets have the opportunity to enlist in the Military Police. Anyone below that has to resort to the Garrison or the Scouts. Not only does it not leave a lot of room for expansion of our forces, but it also causes strife when the MPs are assigned to Wall Rose as opposed to the ‘luxurious lifestyle’ they crave.”  
“I presume that it appears to them as somewhat of a demotion, if they are having to sacrifice their ‘cushy life in the Interior’ for being stationed with the Garrison,” Frieda added wryly.   
The commander’s eyes darted back and forth as if he expected the door to be broken down. “You didn’t hear this from me. We have a broken system, Lady Reiss. People who join the Military Police should join to uphold the law, not this laid-back nonsense that’s been going on. If I had done something sooner…” His voice trailed off as he shook his head. “What’s done is done. All I can do is work with what I’ve got for as long as I can.”  
“At the end of the day, that’s really all any of us can do. I appreciate your candor, Commander. I’m certain that you will continue to do the very best that you can,” she commented. “I do have one final question before I allow you to return to your other responsibilities. What is the vetting process for those assigned to the King’s guard detail?”  
He let out a chuckle. “You don’t get to even think of gaining that position until you’ve proved your worth and loyalty. Trust me; I’ve handled a few MPs that have gone off to that position. They are soldiers who take their duties very seriously. If nothing else, we refuse to allow any slackers to obtain that rank.”  
Frieda smiled warmly at him. “And again, I’m confident that you carry out the duties of commanding the Military Police with pride.” She rose from her seat, and curtsied to the man. “I thank you again for your time and your willingness to speak to me, Commander Dok.”  
Nile stood up straight and gave a deep bow. “I hope the rest of your day finds you well, Lady Reiss.”  
As she took her leave and headed toward her carriage, she reflected on the conversations she had just had. Commander Dok had been receptive to her cordiality, and offered some much-desired insight into the Military Police. She could only hope that carrying herself similarly would be adequate as she headed to the Garrison Headquarters.  
This worked well for her interaction with Commander Dot Pixis… a little too well.   
“Care for a drink, my dear?” the older man asked, holding out his flask to her as they strode on top of Wall Rose.  
Frieda masked her disgust behind a smile. “No, thank you. I do appreciate again you taking the time to speak with me this morning. It’s certainly been… enlightening.”  
“Of course.” He took a swig of his drink before pocketing it. “Don’t worry. I’ve been a commander for fifteen years and not once have I caused an incident.”  
“That’s only because I’ve been around to prevent you from causing said incidents,” a deadpan voice added from behind them.  
Pixis’s eyes lit up as he turned around to see a brunette approach them. “Ah, just in time. Lady Reiss, allow me to introduce you to my personal aide: Anka Rheinberger.”  
The tired look in the newcomer’s brown eyes said it all, but she did give a polite bow to Frieda. “Don’t take the ‘personal’ part of that statement badly, Lady Reiss. I’m what you would call damage control for our illustrious commander. A brilliant man who needs to keep his mouth away from booze.”  
The commander brushed her off with a wave. “Bah! You worry too much, Anka. I’m as functional as I ever was when I was promoted.”  
“I wouldn’t advertise that, sir,” Anka advised.  
Frieda gave a small, forced smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anka. I fear that my time here grows short, and I must be taking my leave so I don’t keep my next appointment waiting.” She gave a curtsy and turned, intent on making her way to the stairway back to the safety of the solid ground.  
“I suppose we’ll be answering to you in the near future,” Pixis said offhandedly.  
Frieda froze and turned slowly to face him, pasting her noble smile on her face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”  
Pixis slowly approached her, that kind look still etched on his visage. “I’ve been in the Garrison for most of my life, Lady Reiss, and I’ve learned one thing: nobles don’t approach me unless they wish to file complaints against my men for guzzling alcohol. Believe me, I have a stack half my height of those complaints. What you’re doing is unheard of, which leads to only two possibilities.”  
“You’re quite insightful, Commander Pixis. And what, pray tell, are the two possibilities that you’re referring to?” Frieda replied.  
“You have plenty of time to waste, or you’ll be in the office of someone with a rank higher than mine,” he answered with a brief glint of seriousness before it faded right back to his jovial nature. “But what do I know? I’m just an aging commander formulating theories to pass the time. Good day, Lady Reiss.” Dipping his head to her, he continued patrolling the Wall with Anka following closely behind. The hushed tones coming from the woman made it clear she was displeased with his words.  
Frieda turned and slowly descended the stairs, her thoughts swirling. Well, that certainly took an unexpected turn. I’ll definitely have to keep an eye on this gentleman. He may prove to be a valuable ally in the future.  
With the easiest regiment taken care of, all that remained were the Scouts. Her brows furrowed a bit as she thought about her brief encounter with them at that bar. Confrontational, lack of respect, and general unpleasantness around nobles. Either those two men were anomalies within the ranks, or she was going to meet an entire regiment with that same viewpoint. Considering the regiment’s goals and the high casualty rate, the latter was highly likely. Inside the carriage, after telling the driver instructions to head into the Trost District, she braced herself for whatever negativity that would be sent her way. A petty side of her, though, hoped that once she became queen, she could promote Gunther and Eld to Royal Toilet Cleaners. All she needed was a good excuse.

\-----------------------

“Let me get this straight. There’s a noblewoman, coming to see the Scouts for who knows what reason, and you’re sending me to be her escort?” Captain Levi’s deadpan held a hint of contempt he couldn’t hide. Despite being the shortest man in the entire Scout Regiment, his tongue consisted of barbs and flames to all who annoyed. Nobles were nearly at the top of the list.  
The blond-haired commander with arguably the most impressive of eyebrows gazed at the captain with a neutral expression. “Consider this to be practice on diplomacy, Levi. The Reiss family is one of the highest families within the Interior. Offending her will cause trouble for our regiment.”  
He gave a snort. “The noble pigs always find the truth offensive, Erwin. It’s in their blood.”  
Erwin narrowed his eyes. “You’re not helping your case. I need you on the front lines, not sulking in a jail cell. Is that understood?”  
Before Levi could answer, there was a knock at the door.  
“Come in,” the commander said.  
Another blond man entered the room, though he sported a small goatee. “Frieda Reiss has arrived, Commander.”  
Erwin nodded to him. “Thank you, Mike. Send her in.”  
“And don’t sniff her,” Levi warned quickly.  
There’s hope for you yet, Levi. Erwin thought with amusement.  
The young woman stepped into the room, her blue eyes sweeping over the pair men awaiting her. The ankle-length, powder blue dress was an unusual shade for the area, and highlighted her sharp eyes. Black boots clicked slightly on the hard floors as she walked. Her attention settled on the blond man, who stood to greet her. “Commander Erwin? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with me,” she said formally.  
Erwin gave a small bow. “The honor is ours, Lady Reiss. Allow me to introduce my second-in-command, Captain Levi. He will be showing you around the territory, give you an idea of what our regiment is about.”  
The dark-haired man simply grunted at her and didn’t have the courtesy to greet her properly.  
Frieda raised an eyebrow at the lack of greeting, but opted to not voice her displeasure yet. “Pleased to meet you as well, Captain. Shall we be off then? I would regret to take up too much of your valuable time.”  
“I have to say, though, it’s unusual for a noble to visit the Scout Regiment,” Erwin responded, not answering her initial question. Unlike Pixis, he wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and his blue eyes were far more analytical. “Perhaps if you explain a bit more as to your purpose, we can structure your time with us more to your liking.”  
Frieda gave him a smile as she spoke. “While it certainly is unusual, I would like to think that it won’t be in the future. Consider this a personal education, if you will. I wish to gain a better understanding of what specifically your regiment addresses on a day-to-day basis, as well as what challenges are being faced when you are within the Walls.” Her tone went from being optimistic to taking on a sad tone. “Too often we hear only the tragedies of Scouts venturing beyond to defeat the Titans with only a few managing to return to safety. It saddens me to think of all the families that have lost loved ones to the scourge of Titans threatening humanity.”  
“Your sympathies are a welcome change to the responses we usually get,” Erwin said, distracting her from the glower Levi was giving her. “Now, then, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Captain Levi. As you’ve said, I do have a lot of work to do.”  
Frieda bowed her head in respect to the blond man. “I thank you again for your time, Commander. Shall we be off?” she again addressed the shorter captain.  
Levi nodded as he proceeded to the door. He exited the room without allowing her to go first, giving Frieda an idea of how he viewed the nobles. Mike was just outside where he handed the captain a stack of clothes neatly folded and tied up. Levi, in turn, faced Frieda and practically shoved them into her arms. “Put these on.”   
Frieda raised an eyebrow at him. “In public, or do you have a dressing room of some sort?” she retorted. “I presume this is ‘for my safety’ or something along those lines?”  
“Hardly. It’s so you won’t come crying to me about how you got a speck of mud on your dress.” He opened a door to reveal an empty office. “There’s your dressing room.”  
The young queen bit back a snide remark that would’ve made Abel proud and went inside, closing the door firmly behind her. She gave a cursory scan of the room to confirm that it was indeed empty before swiftly changing into the offered clothing. The pants were slightly too big, but the belt that bound the uniform pieces together remedied that. She wasn’t surprised when the shirt too was baggy, and she tucked it into the pants as best as she could. Neatly folding her dress, she draped it over her arm and re-opened the door.  
Levi gave her the once over before saying, “Leave the dress. It’s unnecessary weight when you’re riding a horse.”   
“Will it be an issue for me to leave my dress in a stranger’s office? I would certainly hate to cause anyone unnecessary trouble,” Frieda asked, hesitating a moment.  
He didn’t respond, choosing to just stare at her blankly.  
She cleared her throat awkwardly and turned around, draping the dress over the back of the desk chair. “Very well. I’m ready then.”  
“Come on.” He led her outside where a small group of people were waiting fully outfitted in their Scout uniforms, cloaks and all. There were three men and a woman, but two of the men looked very familiar.  
Frieda’s eyes widened. “Is this your squad, Captain Levi?” she asked to confirm what she had a feeling she already knew.  
“No, we just wanted to stand here and look pretty,” Gunther answered with a smirk.   
The woman rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Gunther, you couldn’t even wait until after we were introduced?”  
“Hey, stand at attention!” the third man, the eldest of the group ordered suddenly. “The captain didn’t give us permission to speak.”  
“I didn’t give you permission to lick my boots either, Oluo,” Levi said in a drawl tone, shutting him up. “Everyone, this is Frieda Reiss, our ‘guest’ of honor. Reiss, this is my squad: Gunther Schultz, Eld Jinn–.” The two from the bar she visited. “–Petra Ral–.” The ginger-haired woman. “–and Oluo Bozado.” The squad’s elder.  
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Frieda gave a graceful bow at the waist. “I had the good fortune to encounter Eld and Gunther a few months back. They left me with quite an impression.” She flashed them a bright smile.  
“It’s our pleasure to meet you.” Of course, the only person showing her a modicum of respect was the woman.   
“Good, because you four are going to answer whatever questions she has,” Levi stated as a Squad Leader approached them with six horses. “Do you know how to ride a horse, Reiss?”  
“It’s Lady Reiss,” Frieda corrected. “And yes, I have quite a lot of experience riding. It’s one of my favorite pastimes, though I’ve had fewer opp--”  
“I don’t need your life story,” Levi interrupted as he easily mounted his steed despite his small stature. “Just get on and follow us.”  
Oluo gave her a look that seemed to say, “Yeah, he told you,” before getting on his horse exactly the way Levi did. The other squadmates threw her apologetic looks as they, too, followed suit.  
Frieda blew out her breath as she pulled herself up onto the horse that was left for her. Levi’s attitude certainly rubbed her the wrong way, but she was determined to not allow it to ruin her time with the Scouts. She would bite her tongue as long as she needed to, provided she was able to learn all that she hoped.  
The group trotted down the dirt path before Petra was the first to speak up. “Don’t take it too personally, Lady Reiss. Levi has never been a people person.”  
Frieda snorted in a very unladylike manner. “I would never have guessed that. He’s so genial,” she quipped. “But I suppose I can’t fault him. Most of the nobility are not people that I would care to spend my time with either.”  
Eld smirked slightly. “Told you she was a weird noble.”  
“This is gonna be the entire trip, isn’t it?” Petra complained, feeling a strong headache approaching. “I ask the questions, you and Gunther make snarky statements, and Oluo… I don’t even need to say anything.”  
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Oluo demanded indignantly.   
“If you have to ask, you’ll never get it,” Gunther said.  
Oluo let out a growl. “Okay, Gunther, I’ve only got room in my life for one nursemaid. I don’t need another--.” He was cut off when he gagged suddenly, his mouth erupted with blood.  
Frieda didn’t know what was more horrifying: the fact that Oluo’s mouth was bleeding out of nowhere or that none of his fellow squadmates batted an eyelash at the occurrence. She blinked slowly, attempting to identify the source of the blow.  
“And there it is,” Petra announced with a shake of her head. “Don’t be too alarmed. Oluo has a habit of biting down on his tongue. He’ll make it.”  
The young queen was speechless for a few seconds. “If you’re certain that he doesn’t need medical attention…” she trailed off.  
“If he’s still on his horse, he’s fine,” Eld assured.  
The only thing she got from Oluo was a messy attempt to talk.  
“I’m sure you’ve got a few questions,” Petra began, changing the group’s focus.  
“Yes, that’s correct,” Frieda replied. “The first one would be for you and your squad specifically. Why, out of the military options available to you, did you choose to join the Scouts?”  
“A sense of duty for myself and Gunther,” Petra explained. “Eld… that’s his story to tell. Oluo enlisted because of the captain. He saved his life, and now Oluo is prepared to follow him into Hell whether the captain likes it or not.”  
The young queen nodded, processing this information. “Does it bother you at all? Knowing that the odds of returning home are slim, given the number of enemies that you’re facing beyond the Walls?”  
Gunther decided to answer that one. “Any soldier worth half his salt would be bothered. Those that aren’t are idiots too dumb to understand what they’re getting into.”  
“And then there are those that have a death wish,” Eld added gravely. “Intentionally or unintentionally suicidal. They’re usually the first to be killed.” He scoffed. “Waste of life if you ask me.”  
“Is progress being made through the Expeditions?” Frieda asked. “Can we clearly see a benefit that comes to risking the lives’ of so many individuals?”  
“Titans exist only to eat humans. We kill them. You tell us,” Eld replied sharply.  
Realization was beginning to dawn on the young queen. “In essence, every Titan that is defeated at the hands of the Scouts is one less threat to humanity. Is that right?”  
‘“Defeated at the hands of the Scouts.”’ It seemed Levi couldn’t take it anymore and he had to chime in, glancing behind him. “Who the hell talks like that?”  
Frieda returned his look with a stare. “I’m sorry, is there a different phrase that I should use? Am I misunderstanding the job that you do in some way? You protect humanity, and defeat Titans, venturing beyond the Walls like few others would be foolhardy enough to even attempt to do!”  
“We don’t ‘defeat’ Titans,” Oluo interjected when he found his voice again. “We kill them.”  
“I fail to see the difference, aside from the terminology that you’re using,” Frieda commented.   
Levi snorted and turned his head from her. He was probably thinking of many unpleasant thoughts about her right now.  
She fell quiet, no further questions coming to mind at the time being.  
“Get ready to ride fast,” Petra warned quietly.  
The minute they cleared the small forest, Levi cracked the whip without warning, the horse sprinting into a full gallop. The rest of the squad did the same, trailing behind him. Frieda kept pace easily, but her eyes were wide, taking in the open fields near the edge of Karanes. “Where are we going?” she called to whomever might hear her.  
“We’re heading for the Wall!” Eld called back. “Try and keep up.”  
She didn’t reply, her eyes looking ahead to the looming shape of the Wall ahead. She’d been on Wall Rose with Commander Pixis earlier that day, but that was further south, and their attention had been looking back toward Wall Sina. Not once had the young queen thought to glance the other direction, toward Wall Maria. She had no reason to consider the Titan-infested area. Now, it appeared that she would be seeing at least a portion of it.  
Once they reached the Wall, the group pulled their horses to a halt. Before Frieda could wonder how they were going to get to the top, she noticed that they had ODM gear. Underneath those green cloaks, she couldn’t see them at first.  
“Reiss, grab onto Petra,” Levi ordered as he propelled to the top.  
Frieda gulped slightly, a twinge of fear at the lack of protection but she did as he had said, wrapping her arms snugly around the woman’s waist. Goddess help me, if I die because of this… she thought, breathing a silent prayer for their safety.  
“Hang on. First time is always the roughest,” Petra said as she shot her hooks as close to the top as she could. “Ready? And… go!”  
The young queen felt like her stomach was going to plummet out through her feet as the pair ascended, wind whistling through their hair. Never had she felt such exhilaration, or felt so small compared to the scope of the Wall they climbed. Her hands clung to each other around the other woman in a white-knuckle grip. What usually took a few minutes of climbing using a staircase was accomplished with mere seconds utilizing the ODM gear.   
“You can stop screaming now!” Petra shouted once she landed on top of the Wall with her comrades.  
Frieda closed her mouth and collapsed on shaky knees, her breathing rapid and irregular. “H-how… how the hell do you get used to that sensation?!” she gasped as she attempted to regain her composure. And for a moment, all vestiges of being nobility were gone.  
“Years and years of practicing,” Eld answered, though he started backing away from her. Even the others did.  
Before she could figure out why, Levi was standing over her and gestured to the other side. “Take a look.”  
Frieda’s legs were still too shaky to support her, so she gingerly crawled to the side and peeked over, emitting a horrified gasp. Nothing prepared her for the sight that met her eyes.  
Before her was the rubble of what used to be a town, one that gave the impression that it had been destroyed, partially rebuilt and then destroyed again. The central buildings were primarily made of stone, scattered with aged, broken beams of wood. Toward the outer edges of the area, newer wooden beams were thrashed and strewn about, like someone had broken a child’s dollhouse and scattered the pieces. One could call it a ghost town, and the term would be nearly accurate. Only traces of humanity remained here and there. A partially plowed field with the twisted metal of a broken plow. Shreds of cloth, all that remained of curtains. A partial fence, that ended abruptly, wire twisted and bent into the ground. Wind blew through a ragged wagon cover, revealed several piles of white, cracked bones. Pieces of broken wheels and furniture were spread far beyond the edges of the town. A scraping sound to the left caught her attention, though an instant later, she wished it hadn’t. A large, grotesque, humanoid figure was pulling a piece of broken roof aside and lifted up part of a long-dead corpse and devoured it whole, crunching the bones in its massive teeth.  
The young queen gagged and leaned forward to vomit over the side of the Wall, but found herself scrambling backwards and bumping into someone’s legs, the urge to vomit vanishing instantly when she saw what was at the bottom. Nearly a dozen Titans of varying statures were clawing at the Wall with inhuman growls and moanings, attempting to make headway against the structure but failing.  
A hand clasped around the back of her collar as her head was pushed closer. “Take a good, long look, noblewoman,” Levi growled with barely-concealed disgust. “While you’re busy trying to figure out what dress to wear, we’re out here trying to kill the freaks that won’t stop until every single one of us is eaten. You gag at the smell? You recoil from their cannibalistic habits? That’s what we see all the time. We aren’t an army of heroes that go out to ‘defeat the Titans.’ We give life and limb to kill one of these bastards.”   
One of the Titans clawing at the Wall spotted Frieda and fixed her with an animalistic smile. It was as if the creature knew what she was.  
“I want you to remember this, Reiss,” Levi went on. “Remember your fear when you consort with the noble pigs, how they are lounging around without a single thought of what lies outside the Walls. And when the inevitable subject of how we waste the government’s taxes come up again, think of a world where we aren’t your precious safety net.” He yanked her back from the edge, causing her to land hard on her back. “Hope you enjoyed the tour.”   
To say that Frieda was shaken to her core was an understatement. The face the Titan had given her when it locked eyes with her would be haunting her dreams indefinitely. Not to mention the scene she’d witnessed of the destroyed town. These were monsters. She was reminded again that she had sent countless thousands of innocent people to face them with little more than gardening tools and their wits. What was it that she had said at the time? “For the good of the people. For the greater good.” It couldn’t be further from the truth. She had sent them out like lambs to the slaughter and while she mourned the loss of the people then, her imagination couldn’t begin to grasp the unspeakable horrors that they had truly faced. The burden on her shoulders of what she had done had just become tremendously heavier.


	28. Discoveries

Abel glanced over her shoulder for the fourth time in so many blocks. It was nearly too easy for her to have snuck out of the house. Her mother was splitting her time between chastising the maids on their poor cleaning job in the kitchen and berating Florian for her poor performance on her last arithmetic assignment. Dirk was meeting with his tutor for the afternoon, leaving Abel to “focus on her literary analysis essay”. Fuck that! That essay is boring as hell. I’ll finish it… later, she thought to herself as she slipped on a pair of her riding pants and a snug blouse that she tucked in. Tugging on the boots and putting her treasured knife on her belt, she poked her head into the washroom where Florian was trying to wash her tear-stained, snotty face. “I’m going to ride for a few minutes to clear my head. I’ll be back shortly,” she told her younger sister.  
Florian barely nodded in acknowledgement, too distracted by her own troubles. Abel had taken that as a good sign, grabbing a sunhat, and headed to the barn. Within several minutes, she was on her way. Normally when she was “clearing her head”, she stayed on the property. Not this time. She had a destination in mind, and there was nobody to stop her. She nudged her mount to a canter, too impatient to go more slowly. The Yarckel District awaited.

\--------------------------------

(Yarckel District)

Large beads of sweat poured down Dillon's face as he brought the hammer down on the sword. The katana was a recent commission from a collector that came in a week ago, and thanks to Dillon, it was nearly completed. With the shape finally being the proper way he needed it to be, he dipped the sword in a bucket of water to cool it down. Steam erupted in his face as a result, but that was the norm with weapons.  
Despite a smith needing to have complete concentration on the task at hand, Dillon's mind was on a particular girl he was meeting soon. Her beautiful, blue eyes; the way her long, brown hair seemed to flow with the wind itself; and, of course, her personality being the opposite of what nobles were like. She was amazing, and he was going to tell her.   
"Dad, the katana's finished!" Dillon announced loudly as he placed the sword on the table. "I'm gonna hit the showers and take a walk."  
"Alright. Try not to get heatstroke," Matthew warned from outside. He was making adjustments to the door of the forge so the hinges wouldn't pop off. Perfect distraction.  
Dillon all but ran into the house to take a quick shower. However, he paused to stare at the mirror for a brief examination. His face wasn't sunburned this time, so that was a positive. Still, he couldn't help but wince at all the burns and scratches he accumulated. It was normal for people in his profession to have them, but ever since he met Abel, he was getting sloppy. He hoped that after today, he'd be able to retain his focus on the job.  
It only took him ten minutes to get himself scrubbed and fresh for the date. Part of him wanted to wear something nice, but two things stopped him: the possibility of getting heat stroke if he bundled himself up in a suit, and he didn't want his parents to get suspicious. So, he threw on a green shirt and brown pants. Perfect combination.   
The sound of hoofbeats clattered outside, growing closer, then passing the forge, dying away after a moment. As the rider passed, out the window, Dillon caught sight of flowing, chestnut hair. She was close by, but not willing to risk being caught either. He trotted down the stairs and went in the same direction she went. Knowing Abel, she wouldn't go far.  
She grinned when he reached her. “Care to join me? I was thinking we’d head toward the canal, maybe get something to drink?” she offered, extending a hand so he could climb up behind her.  
"It would be my pleasure," Dillon replied, taking her hand. It had been a while since he rode a horse, but he figured he still had what it took. "So… what do I hold onto?" he asked once he was situated.  
“You can put your hands around my waist. I’m not going to ride as fast as I did coming over here, so you should be able to keep your balance fairly easily,” she replied, trying to keep her tone cool. She’d only ever ridden tandem with her older brother, and that had been a fair number of years ago.   
"Right. Your waist." He tried not to look nervous as he brought his arms around, clasping his hands together so he didn't lose his balance. "I'm ready… I think."   
She nudged the mare to a walk, glad that Dillon was behind her so he wouldn’t see her rosy cheeks. “Umm, so how was your day?” she asked conversationally, guiding the horse through the streets in the direction of the canal. Few people took notice of the pair, but Abel was still thankful that her hat blocked part of her face.  
"I finally finished that katana," he answered, trying not to cling onto her too tight. "Took a bit longer than I thought it would, though."  
“Well, at least it’s done, and the customer will be happy, right?” she pointed out. “At least you weren’t stuck listening to your mother making your baby sister cry.”  
"True. I suppose that's something to be thankful for." He paused for a moment. "You know, I should consider myself lucky."  
“Probably. I always thought it must be lonely to be an only child though,” Abel focused on the mare for a moment, turning her down a street to the right. “I guess in that way, I’ve always thought that if I ever have children someday, it’s going to be at least two. That way, they never get lonely.”  
"Hmm? Oh, I wasn't talking about that," Dillon corrected. "I'm lucky because if things happened differently, I'd be deep into the Cadet Corps."  
“In the Cadet Corps? But why?” Abel pulled the mare to a stop outside of a large cafe. She slipped off and looped the reins around the wooden bar where two other horses patiently waited.  
He let out a sigh as he carefully dismounted the mare. "When the Titans got into Wall Maria, I thought they would be coming into Wall Sina any day. I thought if I enlisted, maybe I could do something about it." He didn't look at her as shame crept into his tone. "I washed out."  
“Well, I suppose it’s better to have washed out of the Cadets than to die in the jaws of a Titan. If you had, we never would have met.” She gave him a tight hug, then took his hand. “C’mon. Let’s get a drink, then take our walk.”  
"Sounds good to me." A cold drink of whatever this cafe had sounded very good to him.  
A few minutes later, the pair exited the cafe, each carrying a glass of iced tea with them. Abel moved her cup to her left hand so she could claim Dillon’s hand again in her right as they meandered towards the canal. “Were you planning on going into the Scouts specifically if you’d completed your training?” she asked to break the silence.  
"Yeah, I did, but even if I wanted to go into the other regiments, I flunked on the ODM gear," he confessed with a touch of bitterness. "The only reason I didn't get shipped to the fields was because of my parents pulling strings."  
She took a seat on a bench across from the calm waters and took a sip of her iced tea. “Even a young man from Wall Sina would have been sent to the fields instead of home to his family when he washed out of the Cadets? That’s rather harsh, isn’t it?”  
"It is what it is," he replied. "Though, the fact I was able to go home probably put a bad taste in the cadets' mouths."  
“Have you seen any of them since then?”  
"Not since Founder's Day," Dillon responded. "But I couldn't bring myself to face them. Pretty cowardly, isn't it?"  
“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t blame you for not wanting to get into a potentially hostile situation. You gotta try to protect yourself, right?” She glanced over at him. “I don’t see you as being a coward.”  
Dillon looked at her and smiled a bit. "I really should count my blessings. Like you said, if I didn't wash out, we wouldn't be sitting on this bench together, enjoying each other's company."  
A faint blush covered Abel’s cheeks, and she felt slightly uncomfortable at the intensity of his stare. “Wish we could do this more often. I’m honestly not sure how much I can try to get away without my family catching on that I’m sneaking out to see someone,” she admitted.  
"Well, my parents know I'm trading letters with a girl, but they still don't know it's you." Hesitantly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to test the waters.  
She responded by leaning her head against his shoulder. “I think it’s for the best that they don’t know it’s me. Who knows what kind of bullshit that my family would give me for being seen with a ‘lesser family’ or whatever excuse they use.”  
"Abel… can I ask you something?" Dillon asked.  
“Of course,” she glanced up at him without lifting her head. “You can ask me anything.”  
"Um... " Dillon found himself at a loss for words, knowing that this would change their relationship one way or the other. "Do you, uh… are you interested in taking this relationship further?"  
The blush on Abel’s cheeks intensified. “Ummm, is that a trick question? I mean, you’ve got your arm around me in public,” she teased. “I mean, you already know that I like you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get some time to see you.”  
"So, does that mean it's okay if I kiss you?"  
She froze, her mind blanking out. Abel, queen of the comebacks and snarky remarks, had no verbal response for her boyfriend. Her eyes moved up to his face again and she nodded silently.  
His eyes widened in surprise. "Y-You sure? I mean, I don't want you to think you're obligated to--"  
She reached up and put a finger over his lips. “Shut up. I’m sure. I’m not going to second-guess it, and you shouldn’t either.”  
"Okay." He stared at her for a moment before leaned in. He kissed her right on the lips for an entire second before he pulled away.  
Abel blinked at the brief caress for a moment, then wrapped her fingers in his messy hair, and pulled him back in for a longer kiss, her eyes closing reflexively.   
He didn't dare open his eyes, for if this was a dream, it was one he didn't want to wake from. He felt warm inside, knowing that after all this time, he was finally with a girl he cared about. Now, he knew why his parents liked to kiss so much.  
Abel wasn’t one of those girls who daydreamed endlessly about being in a relationship or anything like that. She hadn’t expected to find a guy that she liked, let alone wanted to spend time with. But with Dillon, things just felt right. He was easy to talk to, sarcastic, and even when he was awkward, he was sweet to her and made her feel special. It was only fitting that she give him her first kiss. After all, a first kiss would be something that she would never forget, and she never intended to forget a single moment of her time spent with sixteen-year-old Dillon Amsdale. 

\------------------------------

(Ehrmich District)

Frieda’s eyes slowly opened when the carriage came to a stop. Just over an hour had passed since that horrible moment atop Wall Rose. She’d been notably silent on rappel down the Wall and return to the Scouts’ headquarters, her mind swirling with everything she’d witnessed. When her carriage arrived, she ordered the driver to make a stop at a tavern on her way home. She needed wine to help her relax some of the tension she felt in her shoulders following that sight. It might not work, but then again, a little wine never hurt. She stepped out and requested that the carriage meet up with her several blocks south after an hour or so. She was in no hurry to drink her wine or get home, despite how far the sun was ducking behind the Wall.  
Heading inside, this was definitely not the finest establishment she’d been in, but it was a fair sight better than most, and they had a wine that she could enjoy. She took a seat at the edge of the bar, her eyes absently drifting over the people milling about, not focusing on much beyond her wine and her thoughts.   
“What’ll it be, Miss?” the bartender asked as he wiped down the glasses with, thankfully, a clean rag.  
“The largest glass of the best red wine you have,” she replied tiredly.  
“You’ve got it.” He slid over the glass she requested and began to pour in the alcohol. “Just tell me when to stop.”  
“Fill it just shy of the brim,” she said, watching the wine flow. “It’s been rather a challenging day.”  
“I know what those days are like,” he replied as he stopped right before the cup overflowed. “Hell, just last week, my brother comes into my house high as a kite, and he’s telling me…” And just like that, his words held no value.  
Frieda stared at her filled glass, the red color reminding her of today’s events. She saw a lot of red dripping from that one Titan’s mouth. Maybe choosing this particular wine wasn’t the best choice after all.  
A few seats down, another woman sat down and waved the bartender down. “I’ll take a limeade, please.” Her voice was deeper than Frieda anticipated.  
Whether she wanted the distraction from the redness or the woman’s appearance, the young queen found herself fixated. Her plain, white hat stood out for starters. Usually, ladies within the Interior favored sun hats, but Frieda wasn’t a judge on what a person decided to wear. The woman also wore round glasses, the ends neatly tucked into her blonde hair.  
Wait, blonde? Her hair, her height… it couldn’t be.  
A name escaped from Frieda’s lips before she could stop herself. “Krista?”  
There was no response for a moment until the young woman slowly turned her head to face her. “Were you talking to me?” she asked coldly.  
Inwardly, Frieda kicked herself for having the thought. This young woman was entirely different from how her Krista had been. Where Krista’s features were fine and soft, this lady had a sharper nose and chin, and icy blue eyes that oddly looked out of place behind her glasses. She took a swallow of her wine before she responded. “My apologies. From the side, you reminded me of someone I used to know.”  
She gazed at her as if analyzing her appearance before giving an almost imperceptible nod. “I wouldn’t make a habit of it,” she suggested while the bartender handed her a green bottle.  
“I don’t intend to. But while I have your attention, I should compliment you on your lovely hat. It’s not a style I frequently see,” Frieda commented, attempting to make small talk.  
The even smaller woman gave a blank stare. “It’s a cheap-ass hat from a thrift store. Nothing special about it,” she muttered, taking a very long drink of her limeade.  
“Regardless of where you got it from, it is still quite lovely, and fitting for a beautiful young woman.” Frieda went back to her wine as well, her eyes skimming the room again.  
There was a pause before she spoke again. “I’m flattered, but I’m into boys.”  
Frieda cupped her head in her hands. “Why the hell can’t I give a compliment to another young woman without being perceived as gay?” she mumbled.  
“Try changing the way you compliment people. You speak like a freaking flower,” the girl pointed out.  
“I can’t help it. I was raised to speak properly. Hazard of being in the Reiss family.”  
“You have my pity.” The woman slid the empty bottle to the bartender as she walked into the restroom, locking the door tight in case any perverts got any ideas.  
Frieda glanced at her wine, finding it was nearly gone already. She took another long swallow to finish it, and paid the bartender for hers and the blonde’s. “If she asks, say it was covered to apologize for the intrusion,” she explained, then headed outside. It was nearly dark, and the young queen wrapped her jacket snugly around herself. Most women would probably be worried about walking this close to darkness alone, but most women didn’t happen to be a member of the Reiss family. Her entire identity could ward any assaulters away… provided they weren’t drunk. She shivered briefly, remembering the incident when she attempted to retrieve Urklyn from the bar.   
She’d gone about a block when she got the sense that she was being followed. Her instinct was to immediately turn around, but what stopped her was wanting to catch the apparent stalker. Instead of heading straight to her carriage, she went into an alleyway between several buildings. It was surprisingly clean, but then again, this was Wall Sina. Her ears paid attention to any anomalies that didn’t add up. At first, there was nothing, which gave credence to the fact she was overreacting. However, the faintest step that wasn’t her own was heard. So, a stalker was foolish enough to make her a target.   
Frieda continued to walk down the alley before turning left. There were several corridors to choose from and she went into the second one. It was a small tunnel that could circle around, not that the stalker knew that. Quickly, she came out the other side behind the person following her. She was shocked that her stalker was a woman, and that it was the same one from the bar. Given the blonde’s demeanor in the tavern, she had a feeling that she would run if confronted without being blocked, so the young queen caught the woman’s wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, shoving her against the wall firmly. “I’m not into girls, but I am very keen on finding out why you’re following me. Care to explain yourself?”  
The woman’s answer came in the form of her elbow bashing into Frieda’s nose quicker than she could react. She recoiled, clutching her bloodied nose just as the woman charged her, slamming her knee deep into her gut. As the blonde’s arm descended toward her head, intent on forcing her into a headlock, Frieda landed a firm kick onto the woman’s chest, sending her backwards. “What did I ever do to you, bitch?” she spat, wiping the blood away from her face with her hand, taking a more defensive stance.   
The assailant didn’t respond, putting her hands up in a strange fighting stance Frieda had never seen before. Once again, the blonde moved fast, but instead of a punch, she lifted her leg abnormally high before her foot came dashing towards Frieda’s head.   
The young queen’s elbow blocked the strike and she swiftly grabbed and twisted the blonde’s leg, sending her tumbling to the cobblestones, her glasses flying off and landing a short distance away. “Who are you? And why are you attacking me?” Frieda demanded, placing the heel of her boot on the woman’s rib cage.  
The blonde glared darkly at her before she lifted her other foot. She delivered the harshest kick she could manage right between Frieda’s legs.  
Frieda cried out in pain, tensing on instinct, and driving the heel of her boot downward, cracking several of her assailant’s ribs. She dropped her head toward her lap, grimacing from the pain in her groin. “Now, you’re just pissing me off.” She straightened and stepped back, her cold look matching the icy blue of her attacker’s eyes. The wound on her nose was gone, along with all traces of blood.   
The attacker smiled for the first time, a cruel smile that could give Kenny’s a run for his money. “I found you.”   
“I’m the eldest daughter of the Reiss family. I’m hardly what you would consider hidden. Why were you searching for me?” Frieda demanded again. “There were easier ways to--” She immediately fell silent when she saw steam rising from the blonde’s ribs. “Who are you?” she repeated after a beat.  
“The same as you… Titan.”  
Frieda’s gaze hardened. Another Titan shifter. The last time she had faced one was in the Crystal Caverns. She’d been able to take on her Titan form and defeat the man who intended to destroy her and her family. Now, she was facing a shorter, blonde, young woman, who obviously had more combat training and was prepared to kill her on the spot.  
She was so caught up in her thoughts that the Shifter performed another high kick that was hard enough to crack Frieda’s skull. The queen stumbled back as the blonde grabbed her by the back of the head and slammed it against the wall. And then she did it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. She paused her brutal assault to check on her victim.  
“Did you really think that you could face the Coordinate and come away unscathed?” The sentence started out garbled but cleared as steam poured from Frieda’s bruised and bloodied face. “I’m not stupid enough to get us both caught by shifting within the Walls where we could be seen. But you, on the other hand… I have to question your sanity.”  
“You talk too much,” the Shifter growled as she moved continue her assault.  
“So I’ve been told. But I know how to listen too. And utilize all the resources that the Coordinate provides me. I know what your plan is.”  
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re bluffing. You would’ve used them by now.”  
“Unless there’s ways for it to not be detected. The human mind is a fickle, fragile thing,” Frieda countered.  
The assailant raised her fist for another beatdown when she froze, running footsteps echoing throughout the alley. She recoiled and made a run for it without looking back, leaving behind the battered, young queen.  
“Miss, are you okay?” It was a young man that slid to a stop, jaw askew when he saw who it was. “Oh, my God. Lady Reiss!”  
Frieda forced herself to not heal as she stumbled to her feet. “Please, call my carriage. It’s about two blocks south of here. I’ll be fine. I just need to return home. My family will have a doctor sent over as soon as I arrive.”  
“Let me help you up,” he requested as he moved closer to do just that.  
She leaned on his arm for support. “Thank you. You’re too kind,” she replied, feeling dizzy from the blood rushing to her head. She hadn’t had a chance to fully heal before he had appeared, but she had closed enough of the wounds that she wasn’t in danger of dying from blood loss.  
Nodding, the man slowly walked her back towards the alley’s entrance. “Hang in there. I’ll get you out of here.”  
She thanked him again, growing quiet again. Her mind was far from quiet, racing through everything that she’d just seen and heard. Another Titan shifter was within the Walls, and had said something chilling. ‘I found you’, she had said. Meaning that she was being sought, but for what reason, Frieda wasn’t sure. Unless this person or people intended to use the Coordinate for their own gain. The blonde was skilled, there was no doubt of that. She had given Frieda a run for her money, despite the extensive training that the young queen had… and she’d been stupid enough to reveal to this girl that she was the eldest daughter of the Reiss family. She’d just painted a target on her back, a larger one than what had already been there. Time would tell just how things would play out. But in the meantime, she would have to be more cautious than ever before.

\--------------------------------

“Wait. Start at the beginning,” Rod said sternly. “From when you left the Scouts for the day.”  
Frieda couldn’t help but feel like a little girl again. She swallowed down her disdain, and started over. “Driving through Ehrmich, I stopped for a drink. I had a brief chat with a blonde young woman at the bar, but didn’t think too much of it. Then when I started my walk back to the carriage, I sensed that I was being followed. I tricked the person into coming to where I could double back on them, and found it was the same young lady that I had spoken to at the bar. That’s when she attacked me.”  
Kenny barked out a short laugh. "You see what happens when I'm not around to protect my second-favorite niece? Blame the old man for tying me up with the MPs."  
Rod ignored him and focused on the matter at hand. "And through this fighting, you two unmasked each other as Shifters?"  
“Yes. She’s another Titan Shifter. And a highly skilled fighter at that,” Frieda confirmed. “She has had military training of one kind or another, or unarmed combat at the very least. Even with my rigorous training from Kenny, she nearly overpowered me.”  
"So, which of the monsters is she?" Kenny wondered.  
"We don't know," Rod answered, standing up. "We're in a precarious situation. If we attempt to seize her, she could shift and upset the population with the knowledge that humans can become Titans. But she now knows her chance to take you down has passed, meaning she would have to take drastic measures to reach you."  
“What sort of drastic measures would you be referring to, Father?” the young queen asked.  
Kenny gave her a blank look. "Seriously? You have to ask? It's not like these random Shifters will just walk up to the gates and knock them down. Oh, wait. That's exactly what they did the first time!"  
"Enough!" Rod ordered. "It didn't work then. These infiltrators would be foolish to try again using the exact same tactic. The only thing we can do is wait until she or her other comrades make their move. Under no circumstances can they achieve their goals. Frieda, I want you to meet with a sketch artist and detail everything you remember about that woman. If you see her again, kill her."  
His daughter looked up at him with hard, blue eyes. “She won’t escape from me again, Father. You can count on it.”


	29. The Unofficial Scout

(Stohess District)

Military gatherings were nothing new in a soldier’s life, but it was highly unusual for select MPs from various areas of the country to show up. Forty-eight soldiers consisting of privates, corporals, sergeants, and even a couple of lieutenants were all formed up in a proper squad. Rank had no meaning in this formation; that was all they were told. The only one who had an inkling as to what was going on was Caven, and she was keeping a tight lip.  
Then, there was movement in the curtains behind the podium, and, to the soldiers’ surprise, Kenny the Ripper stepped out. He wore a black trench coat that matched his black hat perfectly. Instinctively, a few of the MPs attempted to draw their guns, but quickly remembered they were ordered to leave them at the entrance to this gathering.  
Kenny took notice of the movement and flashed a grin. “I’m sure one of you fine, decent, human beings hid a spare knife on you. I’m wide open if you’re interested.”  
Nobody present moved a muscle, though there was sweat pouring down some of their faces.  
He clicked his tongue, stepping in front of the podium so he could get a better look at them. “What a shame. For the newbies who have been living under a rock half their lives, my name is Kenny Ackerman. Another cliché moniker I go by is Kenny the Ripper. I’ve killed quite a lot of you people before, some for shits and giggles, others on orders from on high.” At their mutterings as to what he was talking about, he added, “Your government found a man of my talents to be aimed in the right direction, so to speak. Pays well if you all are interested in that line of work.”  
Caven resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this display. Kenny’s habit of falling in love with the sound of his own voice was more detrimental than endearing.  
“So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but now that I’m a law-abiding citizen, anyone who touches me in a way I don’t like gets the death penalty.” Kenny’s smirk begged them to go for it anyway. “Still no takers? Well, congratulations. You all know how to follow orders even if you want to take them out back and piss on them. I’m gonna need that kind of loyalty.”  
He paused for a moment and scanned their faces. Many of them looked furious despite standing at attention. Some were crestfallen at the way their lives led them to this point. And, of course, there were those ready to wet their pants at a moment’s notice.  
The bodyguard let out a chuckle. “You people may be silent, but I can see it all over your faces. You hate my guts. You want them spilled all over the ground.” He singled out a random MP that had the murderous look in his eyes and stalked over to him. “Hey, you. What’s your name?”  
The soldier stiffened and replied, “Duran, sir!”  
“Don’t call me sir. It’s bad for my image.” Kenny grabbed him by the chin so that he could stare into those brown eyes of this man. “You hate me, don’t you?” He cut him off before he could speak. “No lying to me, either. I’m looking for honest people. I can’t lead you MPs if you aren’t brave enough to tell me what you think of me.”  
Gulping, Duran responded, “Y-Y-Yes, si--yes, I hate you.”  
“You want to take a knife and twist in real hard in my intestines, don’t you?” he went on.  
“I want to see you hanged, Kenny,” the soldier confessed, feeling slightly braver.  
His fellow comrades stared with worry. They had a feeling this would be the man’s last words.  
Kenny’s grin grew wider, releasing the man. “Now, that’s what I like to hear, son. In fact, I hope all of you love me or hate me. None of this in-between nonsense. But if you all hate me, why don’t you ask yourselves one question: who was it that put me in this position of power?”  
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as each man and woman present pondered over the question he had posed. One by one, eyes widened or narrowed as they each came to the same conclusion.   
Kenny was helpful enough to voice it for them. “Here’s a reminder. It’s the government you all pray to every night before you go to bed. The government that promised you all a life of luxury and contentment if you work hard, eat your vegetables, and look the other way. Makes you wonder how many psychopaths, how many rapists, how many… well, I can’t think of bigger crimes. Caven, you got one?”  
The blonde silently shook her head, not wishing to engage him in his current state. He’d already been talking too much as it was, and he was showing no signs of stopping. However, she could see by the look on her fellow MP’s perplexed faces that the shock value was his reason for name dropping her.  
“Eh, whatever.” Kenny waved it off. “Let me give you all an example. Remember Corporal Kyler Hauer? Good-looking chick with an aptitude of being a badass if I ever saw one? Yeah? Well, the reason she died wasn’t because she was a traitor.” He paused. “Okay, technically, she was, but you know how it goes in these Walls. You try to make the world a better place, and the government sticks you on a spit and throws an apple in your mouth for good measure. All for the sake of ‘the greater good’ as they would call it. One day, you just might end up on that same spit, and the only thing you’ll ever gain in this life is a nice funeral and a bunch of weepy women. You know who won’t weep for you? Your God, the government.”  
The more Kenny talked, the more accepting the MPs became of his facts that were right in front of their eyes. He was right. No sane government would ever give someone like Kenny a free pass for everything he had done. It was all about working an angle. Nothing more. The group’s anger started to rise, but it wasn’t directed at the psychopath.  
“None of you were drawn out of a hat today,” Kenny assured as he paced back and forth with his eyes always on them. “You all have the skills the government needs to go up against the Scouts, and the skills I need for why you are all really here today. You all share some form of sentiment about the government, that something isn’t right. Today, your eyes have finally been opened by the simple truth.” He tipped his hat to them. “You’re welcome. Now, all that remains is a simple question: are you all gonna keep bending your asses over for the government, or are you willing to follow a bastard like me long enough to shoot the government right in their smug, superior faces?”   
Caven slowly clapped her hands, the sound quiet in the room, but it was quickly joined by another pair of hands, then a third. Slowly the applause trickled through the room until it echoed from each individual present. His speech had attained the desired effect.   
Never in Kenny’s life did he ever dream of being met with thunderous applause, He would never admit it, but it almost made him cry. ...Almost.

\----------------------------

Dirk shoved another cookie into his pocket and flashed a grin at the cook. “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks!”   
The matronly woman rolled her eyes at him, shooing towards the door. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let your mother catch you in here. She scolded me enough the last time she found out that I allowed Abel to have chocolate during one of her womanly times”  
The teen winced. “And Goddess knows that Abel can use the help with her moods then. Thanks again,” he said, taking one last cookie off the plate and popping it into his mouth.  
Checking over his shoulder, he slipped into the hallway, keeping his footsteps light as he neared his father’s office. The door was mostly closed, but he froze when he heard his father’s voice and Kenny’s familiar chuckle coming from inside. Pressing his back against the wall, he inclined his ear closer to the slight gap.  
“Can’t believe I allowed Greta to talk me into this nonsense. ‘Rekindle our relationship,’ my ass. She just wants an excuse to get away from the drama the children have been dishing out in the last year,” Rod sighed. “Best compromise I could do was an extended weekend at the homestead. Greta hates it out there, but I had it refurbished after the situation with Alma was handled.”  
Kenny snickered. “You mean your lovely wife didn’t want anything to do with the love shack that you and your mistress had? Wow, that’s almost respectable of her.”  
Rod scowled at the man. “Enough about that. I expect you to keep an eye on things here while we are gone. Greta’s taking care of things with the children’s tutors, but Frieda and Urklyn will be taking care of things with the nobles. Don’t let Frieda go without her training, both in her hand-to-hand and her Titan form. Goddess only knows how much she needs the first after what happened two months ago in Ehrmich.”  
“Yeah, yeah, Frieda got her ass kicked by a little girl,” Kenny summed up. “If I was there, that girl wouldn’t have gotten away.” He adjusted his hat. “But that’s just me. Be glad I like your daughter enough to give her this attention, Rod. Can I go now?”  
“Not yet. I still need that report you promised me. How’s the training of the First Interior Squad coming along?” Rod asked, leaning forward in his seat.  
“Well, they weren’t too keen on little ol’ me being their captain at first, but they were picked with a natural distaste towards the Scout Regiment,” he answered. “I had them go on the Titan training dummies, and let me say that these guys will make even Captain Levi foam at the mouth.”   
“Good. And how is Corporal Caven doing with her role as second in command of this elite squad?” Rod pressed. “Is she meeting expectations?”  
Kenny’s mouth drew into a grin and opened his mouth to respond.   
“Never mind. I don’t want to know,” Rod cut him off. “Skills are important, but I also need tacticians. Erwin’s a shrewd man. He won’t let the Scouts be taken so easily. He gets his stubbornness from his father.”  
“And look how it ended for that guy. Take it easy, Rod. When the Scouts finally want to stop sucking off the government, they’ll have nearly a hundred bullets waiting for them.”  
“What a pity that Nile isn’t privy to any of this. Just think of how proud he would be of his precious MPs.” Rod laughed for the first time in years. “Oh, what a joy it’ll be to see his face when he finds out that Kenny the Ripper has stolen his most prized soldiers from right underneath his very nose.”  
“Yeah, hold that thought.” Kenny stalked to the door and flung it open. His eyes trailed up and down the corridor until they landed on the kitchen door. Instinctively, he drew his gun.  
“Put that away, Kenny,” Rod ordered. “I won’t have you killing my servants.”  
“That was sensitive information you just spouted, tubby. Besides, I think that cook of yours wants to poison me. Preemptive measures keeps me alive.”  
“You think I’m foolish enough not to keep tabs on my servants?” Rod questioned with narrowed eyes. “If they try to leak the information, they’d be dead before they could do a single thing to me.”  
Kenny shrugged, holstering his gun. “Well, you’re the one paying my bills.” He slammed the door hard, the sound of a painting falling from inside the office. “Oh, look. I killed Ymir! Does that make me God now?”   
Earlier, Dirk clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the gasp that rose from his throat when he’d heard the conversation shift to the “report” that Kenny was giving. A sense of danger tingled down his spine and when he heard the chair scrape indicating movement in his father’s office, he dove across the hall and into the edge of the kitchen. The cook whirled around when he barreled through the door. “Dirk? What’s wrong?”  
He panted for a second. “Nearly got busted. Have to hide for a minute. My father is leaving his office.”  
“Oh, well, in that case, why don’t you go out through the dining room, and tell him that the lunch that he had requested be prepared for him and the missus to take with them when they leave is ready. Oh, and I’ve got lunch ready for you kids as well,” the woman added, giving him a smile.  
He nodded and hesitantly smiled in return. “Thanks, Griselda.” His mind raced through all that he’d heard and learned. He had to warn the Scouts, and fast.

\------------------------------------------ 

Shouting was not an unusual thing to hear in or around the headquarters of the Scouting Regiment, but coming from a young man whose voice still cracked when he tried to yell was certainly out of the ordinary. Erwin’s head came up from his paperwork briefly, but he shook it off, going back to his expense reports.  
About a minute later, a hurried knock on the door sounded, and Mike opened it, poking his head in. “Commander? There’s a kid here that’s demanding to ‘speak with Commander Erwin’ and is claiming it’s a case of life or death. Levi is subduing him as we speak.”  
A howl of anger and pain came from outside, accentuating Mike’s comment.  
Erwin sighed, and rubbed his face. “Have Levi bring him in here. I’ll talk to them both.”  
"Yes, sir." Mike exited the room and in less than a minute, the door was slammed open as Levi pushed in a black-haired boy who currently had his arm locked behind his back. Erwin hid his smirk when he noticed this boy was an inch or two shorter than Levi.  
"Sit down, brat," Levi ordered, shoving him into a chair.  
The boy winced in pain as he rubbed his arm to alleviate it. "Was that really necessary?"  
"We are a military establishment, young man," Erwin lectured. "Trespassers of any kind will not be tolerated. Now, tell me your name."  
“Dirk Reiss,” he replied immediately.   
"Oh, fuck me," Levi muttered. "Not another Reiss brat."  
“I have to speak to Commander Erwin immediately. It’s vital. It’s a matter of life and death!” Dirk pressed urgently.  
"Is that so?" Erwin put his hands together, elbows on his desk. "I am the commander you are looking for. You say it's a matter of life and death? Explain yourself."  
“Where to begin…” the teen fumbled for a second. “Bottom line, there’s a group of MPs that are being specially trained to eliminate the Scouts. To outmaneuver you, even with your ODM gear. Their goal is to kill all of the Scouts, leadership included.”  
"I see." The commander bore a blank expression as he digested this information. "News of this caliber certainly has proof to back this up, correct?"  
Drik shook his head. “Only that I heard it for myself. Commander Nile Dok has no knowledge that this group even exists either. They are being controlled by another within the government.”  
"A pity. I'm afraid that despite your noble status, Lord Reiss, we will need evidence for your audacious claims." Erwin nodded to the captain standing behind Dirk. "Levi, send him on his way."  
Levi grabbed him by the back of his collar and hoisted him up. "Be a good boy, or I'll have to tell Mommy and Daddy about their idiotic brat."  
“Wait! You have to believe me! They are being personally trained by Kenny Ackerman! Kenny the Ripper is leading this brigade of MPs!” Dirk cried, struggling against Levi’s grip.  
The captain froze, his eyes widening upon hearing the name. Then, he pinned Dirk against the wall. "How the hell do you know Kenny Ackerman?" he demanded, ice dripping off every word. "Start talking."  
“He’s my father’s personal bodyguard. My siblings and I have been raised with him as a sort of uncle figure for us. He’s always around, and always running errands for my father.” Dirk rushed through the explanation. “He’s evil. I know he is. And I heard this discussion from my father and Kenny in my father’s office this very morning.”  
Levi glared into the boy's brown eyes for the longest time. "And how would you know what kind of man your 'bodyguard' is?"  
Dirk struggled to free his mutilated hand before pulling it up in front of Levi’s face. “He ordered me to be kidnapped, and my finger to be removed, just to send a message to my older brother. He doesn’t know that I know it was him that ordered it.” His voice quivered just a bit, but it was noticeable.  
Levi gazed at the hand briefly and let out a heavy sigh. "That's something the bastard would do," he said upon releasing him.  
Erwin stood up and approached the two. "Allow me to introduce you to my second-in-command: Captain Levi Ackerman."  
Dirk’s eyes flew wide. “Ackerman? You-- You’re related to Kenny?” he asked, his voice cracking more than ever, fear flooding through his veins.  
"Somehow," he answered with a tone that seemed sympathetic. "One of the many questions of have for him if I can catch him."  
"Few know Levi's last name, and even fewer know Kenny's," Erwin explained. "You're taking a fatal risk to tell us all this. Why? Revenge for your missing finger?"  
“My brother wants to put an end to the corruption within the Walls. The Scouts have done nothing wrong. I can’t sit idly by and let them all be killed because I was too much of a damn--”  
"Word to the wise, brat," Levi growled suddenly. "Don't bullshit us. I can see it in your eyes. You hate Kenny. That's the real reason you came here. Because you think that by telling us, we'll help you get his head on a silver platter."  
Dirk was silent for moment. “That’s part of it. I won’t deny that. But I also won’t allow my cowardice to be the reason why the Scouts were not prepared for the threat that’s festering just out of sight.”  
"You seem to hold us in high respect," Erwin noted with raised eyebrows. "Why? Aren't we just Titan fodder and a waste of taxes?"  
He shook his head vehemently. “Perhaps that’s the case for some nobles. I don’t see it that way. You’re making a difference, and facing the Titans head-on, killing them before they can kill us.”  
Slowly, the commander nodded his head as if satisfied. "Your sister, Frieda Reiss, visited us not too long ago saying something to that effect. You are more sincere about your viewpoint of us than she was. That being said, we will have to take certain precautions to ensure our survival. Dirk Reiss, are you prepared to take the fight to your government and possibly your family?"  
“Without hesitation. I don’t know what my father intends to gain by all of this, but I will do whatever it takes to fight and make sure that it doesn’t happen,” he promised.  
"Very well. As of this moment, you will be our informant within Wall Sina. You pass us any and all information concerning this kill squad and Kenny Ackerman. However, we will not be providing you with anything crucial."  
"For all we know, this is your attempt at becoming a triple agent," Levi added with crossed arms. "You're going to do exactly everything we say, or I'll take away more than a finger. Is that clear, Reiss?"  
Dirk swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, sir.”  
"Then get out of here before someone misses you, kid," Levi said, opening the door for him.  
The raven-haired teen muttered a quick thanks before ducking out the door.   
Once the door was shut again, Erwin said, "This opportunity goes far beyond anything we could dream of."  
"If he's telling the truth," Levi pointed out. "The only thing he has is my last name. If that gets leaked to the public, I know whose ass to kick for that."  
“Did you see his face when he explained what had happened to his finger? It was clear that he’d been through hell and back. He’s telling the truth, at least in regards to that,” Erwin mused.  
"If he is, he needs to watch his step," Levi replied with a shake of his head. "Kenny would kill him in a heartbeat if he knew what the boy shared. Unless Reiss is a bigger idiot than I think, he's prepared to die for this."

\------------------------------

Dirk hummed to himself as he finished washing off his face. It was certainly more relaxing to be able to get himself bathed and ready for bed without his mother checking in every five seconds to make sure that he’d thoroughly cleaned every inch of his skin. Perhaps he could advocate that their parents take a vacation from the ‘responsibilities of being a noble’ more often, if only so he could get some much-needed peace and quiet. He patted his face dry and hung up the towel, opening the door behind him without really paying attention.  
That lapse in focus cost him as Urklyn shoved him back inside, slamming the bathroom door shut. "Have you lost your fucking mind, Dirk? What the hell were you thinking!?"  
Dirk gave an unmanly yelp, and threw up his hands reflexively. “Hi, Urklyn. So nice of you to join me… in the bathroom. What are you talking about?” he weakly joked.  
"I don't believe this," Urklyn said with a scoff. "You lost a finger, and you think this is a game. Flo spotted you hightailing it on a horse, so I decided to follow you. Guess where my little brother ended up? The Scout Regiment. Do I need to go on, or are you going to play stupid again?"  
His brother narrowed his eyes. “You would have gone too if you’d overheard what Father and Kenny were discussing this morning before Father left on their trip,” he said defensively.  
"You mean the part about the MPs Kenny organized to kill the Scouts?" At his brother's flabbergasted expression, he elaborated. "Yeah, I overheard them while I was hiding in the bathroom. Only difference is I didn't go off running like a Wall Worshipper trying to get cannons removed from the Wall."  
Dirk’s mouth fell open. “Hey, at least I had a plan! What was yours, just let it happen? Wait until they were actively targeting the Scouts to go ‘Hey, by the way, I know who’s leading them, and they are coming after you, so you’d all better prepare to be hunted’?”  
"As always, Dirk, you're blind to your mistake. Remember who told me where you were going? Flo. You know, the one who confides in our wonderful Uncle Kenny."  
Realization struck the younger teen and he dropped his head in his hands. “Fucking hell… I just doomed us all, didn’t I?” he whispered.  
"You're damn lucky that didn't happen," Urklyn pointed out. "Flo knows the truth now and she's… keeping it confidential. But here's the thing, Dirk: you can't always immediately act on information. I did that and it sent me straight to hell. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you don't screw up the way I did. Because if you do, we're all dead."  
Dirk lifted his head to look at Urklyn. “It won’t happen again. You should know that I’m now the ‘informant from Wall Sina’ to the Scouts now. I promised that I would tell them everything I could glean about Kenny, to help protect them. I won’t tell them everything, but I have to try.”  
Urklyn sighed as he massaged his temples to ward off the headache. "Okay. We can work with this, but you need to tell me every time you have a meeting. That way, Flo and I can cover for you. Got it?"  
He nodded. “I promise. I’m sorry I put us in danger like that.”  
The eldest brother embraced him tightly. "You're the only brother I've got, Dirk. Without you, I'm stuck with three women all alone."  
Dirk snorted. “Stop stealing my thunder. I’m the one who makes jokes around here.”  
"Well, there'd better be one hell of a storm in the future. We've missed that, Dirk. All of us have."  
Dirk cracked a small smile. “Me too,” he admitted. “We need laughter more than ever.”  
As careful as they were being, they could not prevent Florian from overhearing their every word. She was thankful that Dirk wasn't caught, but it seemed he bought Urklyn's story as well. Now, she had two siblings plotting against their father and their family. This needed to stop, and only Frieda could pull it off.


	30. The Lovers' Waltz

Every child and any individual moving from the outer Walls to Wall Sina was educated on the importance of the bell tower within the steeple on the castle. Unlike the smaller ones on churches, the massive bell only sounded on occasions of importance. It could be heard ringing out annually on Founder’s Day, signaling the start of the festivities. Beyond that, it was utilized only to herald events of importance relating to the king. Due to the age of the king, and his lack of direct heirs, it had not been rung outside of Founder’s Day in Frieda’s lifetime. A week before Founder’s Day of 848, that changed.  
Just after eleven in the morning, a clear, loud tone echoed throughout the Walls. Every man, woman, and child froze where they were, listening to the number of times it was rung. Two, three, four times, then it fell quiet. A hush fell over every household as realization came to them. Four times. The King of the Walls had died. As of that moment, they were without a ruler on the throne.  
An hour before the bell had rang, Rod called Frieda into a meeting, one on one.  
“You wanted to see me, Father?” she asked, gracefully taking a seat on the comfortable chair in his office.  
“Yes. That’s right. Everything has continued according to schedule.” Rod got straight to the point. “The king died in his sleep last night. The official autopsy report will read natural causes and old age. Only a small handful of us will know the truth.”  
“May the Goddess have mercy upon his soul,” Frieda replied, bowing her head for a moment to pay silent respect to the deceased.   
“Beginning today, we will be following the traditional six week mourning period for the passing of the King. Due to the proximity to Founder’s Day, his funeral services shall be pushed back until after the turn of the new year,” Rod continued. “We shall be delaying the public celebration of Founder’s Day until after the time of mourning is complete.”  
“As well we should,” Frieda mused. “That’ll place it midway through the second month of the new year, if I’m estimating correctly.”  
“Precisely. Following the Founder’s Day celebration, the public announcement of the selection for you as the next ruler of humanity will be made, and we shall set the coronation date at that point. I estimate that it’ll be early summer before the crown will be placed upon your head.”  
“With you acting as Regent until such time as I take over; then, you’ll move back to an advisory role,” she finished for him.  
Rod nodded. “In the meantime, we need to prepare the official statement outlining what has happened, and what the people should expect during this week. I would like you to assist in drafting that.”  
Frieda smiled for the first time since she had entered the office. “It would be my pleasure, Father. I relish the opportunity to address my people, whether in written form or in public.”  
He slid a paper and a pen across the desk to her. “The bell announcing the king’s death shall sound just after eleven. I’m giving you a few minutes to compose the announcement, and then we shall be notifying the rest of the family about the change of plans for Founder’s Day over lunch.” He grabbed a second sheet of paper and pen and began scribbling down notes furiously.  
Frieda tapped the back of the pen against the desk for a moment before she began to write as well. Words flowed freely from mind to paper, and before long, the proclamation was complete.  
Esteemed citizens,

Today, it is with deep sadness that we inform you of the passing of our beloved king, Waldron Fritz. Faithfully, he has ruled over the kingdom for over the last forty years, and he will be long remembered for his wisdom and leadership over us all.

In light of his passing, we enter into a period of unified mourning. Due to Founder’s Day coming at the end of the week, the public celebrations honoring Ymir shall be postponed until the time of mourning has reached its conclusion. On this day, spend time with your families, in reflection honoring our Founder, and now our king.

The king’s body will shall be embalmed and placed for public viewing a week prior to his funeral. The time of the services in memory of our beloved leader will be provided following Founder’s Day, in the new year.

May peace fill your hearts, and may we all find comfort in the midst of this sorrowful season. 

Sitting back with a satisfied smile, she slid the paper across the desk to her father. “Does that cover everything, Father?”  
He analyzed the letter with a fine-toothed comb. “You forgot to add a comma between ‘now’ and ‘our.’ Other than that, it’s fine.”  
Frieda sighed. “If that’s your only criticism, I suppose I shall be satisfied with it.”   
It was at that moment that the bell could be heard tolling out through the Walls. Frieda closed her eyes and sat in respectful silence until the last sound had died away. “I presume that you’re sending the announcement to the castle, to then be displayed and proclaimed to all the people as soon as possible?”  
Rod stared at her for a moment. “Frieda… I thought I fired that tutor years ago. Have you been seeing him again?”  
His daughter winced. “No, Father. I’m sorry. It’s a force of habit at this point. While it has its benefits when writing documents like I just did, I know it gets to be… tiresome.”  
“There’s a reason I fired the man. Your writing is fine. Work on how you speak, and you’ll make a fine queen.”   
Her blue eyes flashed in anger for a second, but she took a deep breath to compose herself before she spoke. “Yes, Father. I understand.”  
“Come.” He took her by her shoulder and led her away. “Food awaits us.”

\----------------------------------  
“Attention, please. May I have your attention?” Dirk requested, tapping the empty wine glass with a spoon.   
The chatter fell silent as the family gazed upon the middle child.  
"Today, we take the time to remember our former king," Dirk began once he had their attention. "King Waldron… what can we say about him? He was… a man who sat on the throne for a long time. I daresay he lived in that chair. It was his home, his life, thankfully, not his toilet, and now, his final resting place. I remember when we first met at the retirement home. He was an attraction for all visitors to see, a man who could sleep with his eyes open. Truly, a man fitting for the throne itself. Back then, he was called Old Man Wald. He had other names, too. Waste of Space, Memory Loser, and Smelly Grandpa, but to me, and for the rest of his days, he was always Old Man Wald. Thank you."  
Urklyn choked, fighting to contain his laughter at the names and speech.  
Abel was not doing much better, covering her mouth with her hands in an attempt to cover the snickers that were escaping.  
Florian had her head in her hands, shaking her head silently at the audacity her brother showed in describing the dead king suchly.  
Kenny was the loudest of the bunch, cackling to his heart’s content. “Now, that’s a eulogy if I ever heard one.”  
“I certainly enjoy this family making jokes about the death of the king,” Greta said with a scowl aimed directly at Dirk. “You give a speech like that again at this table, and I’ll make sure to move your room into the basement. Is that clear?”  
Gulping, Dirk slowly sat down. “Yes, Mother.”  
There was a snort, prompting Greta to slowly face her husband. “You, too, Rod? Are you just that devoid of decency?”  
“Mother, he was nothing more than a figurehead. While I feel it is right that we mourn the passing of the man, a touch of laughter isn’t going to bring him sorrow. He’s in the arms of the Goddess now,” Frieda pointed out gently.  
“I’ll be sure to remember that when Dirk makes fun of you at your funeral,” Greta spat.  
Silence fell over all present at the table for an uncomfortable minute.  
Abel was the one to finally change the subject. “So, what does this mean for Founder’s Day, for the celebrations?”  
Frieda answered that quickly. “We will be postponing the public celebrations, including the ball until after the new year. We are now in a traditional six-week mourning period for the king. He’ll be laid to rest in about two weeks time however.”  
“I expect each and every one of you to be on your best behavior,” Greta warned. “Show the poor man respect.”  
“He wasn’t poor. That’s for sure,” Kenny snarked, guzzling down another beer bottle.   
“Kenny, I need you sober that day,” Rod told him.  
“...I expect a raise for that indecency,” the bodyguard growled.  
“So, has the date for the ball been set?” Urklyn asked.   
“After the six weeks of mourning, that Saturday, we will go forward with the Founder’s Day ball,” Rod answered. “Urklyn, for the sake of this family, stay away from the wine.”  
The eldest son frowned. “Of course, Father.”  
Abel did some quick math in her head, her eyes widening as she made the connection. “So, the ball will be held on my birthday then?”  
“Frieda, with the ball, this will mark your final time in the public’s eye prior to our selection of you as the queen. I expect you to be prepared for that,” Rod turned his focus to his eldest.   
“Yes, Father. I am aware of this. I shall be the picture of propriety and elegance,” Frieda replied, a smile crossing her face. “I admit, I’m looking forward to the opportunity to be in the presence of my--.”  
A wine glass shattering on the ground was the easiest way to get the talking to stop, which Dirk pulled off easily. All eyes were now on him. Again.  
“Sorry. It slipped,” he lied. “By the way, Abel, isn’t your birthday that day?”  
Abel’s face sunk into a scowl when she realized that she was being ignored by her parents. “Is it going to be on my birthday? Are we going to have a celebration since I’m turning sixteen this year?”  
“Perhaps after the Founder’s Day celebration,” Greta brushed her off. “Right now, the focus will need to making sure that Frieda is prepared for her new role.”  
“Why don’t we just do the ball the day before and celebrate Abel’s birthday on… well, her birthday?” Urklyn suggested.  
“No. The ball must be done on a Saturday to give the palace ample time to prepare beforehand. There’s too much foot traffic during the week from the visitors that they allow to tour for them to adequately get everything ready before an event of that magnitude,” Rod replied.   
“We won’t forget,” Frieda tried to assure her younger sister. “You’re only sixteen once.”  
Abel glared at her. “I’m not holding my breath,” she said bitterly. “Urklyn was the only one to remember last year.”  
“Enough, Abel,” Greta scolded. “This isn’t about you.”  
The teen looked away and frowned. She had a bad feeling about how this was going to go. Just from what she was hearing, it wasn’t looking good for her to have any celebration to speak of.   
\----------------------------

Six weeks flew by, and Abel woke up on her birthday much the same way she did most mornings: with a scowl. Florian was being much too loud and cheerful as she washed her face and played around with some makeup. The older girl growled and elbowed her out of the way to use the bathroom and wash her face, yanking a brush through her hair. She didn’t feel any different for being sixteen, and nothing more had been said about her birthday since the day the king had died. All she had to do was grit her teeth and get through the morning. She had one positive thing to look forward to for the day: Dillon was going to be coming to the ball that evening. She had to admit, kissing her boyfriend had long since become her favorite pastime, and with any luck, they’d have a few minutes for some long, tender kisses before the evening was finished.  
She was heading down the stairs, intent on grabbing a snack and going for a ride to clear her head when a hand clapped on her shoulder. “Slow it down there, kid. You still have 15 hours worth of your birthday left.” The hand belonged to her grinning uncle.  
“Don’t remind me,” she grumbled. “I was going for a ride, unless you have a better offer.”  
“You’re sixteen, meaning I can give you a literal taste of the good life.” Gripping her arm, Kenny began dragging her outside. “Come on. We’re going to the bar.”  
Her eyes widened. “The bar? Uncle Kenny, I can’t get drunk. Not before tonight. Mother would murder me.”  
“Correction: she’d castrate me before murdering you. Don’t worry. We’ll save that for another year when those old bags aren’t looking. I can at least give you something to think about.” He all but shoved her into the carriage and shut the door behind them. “The usual spot,” he barked at the driver.  
With a crack of the whip, they were off.  
“Been keeping that shiny knife of yours hidden?” Kenny asked.  
“Only time it’s visible is on my belt when I’m going riding,” Abel gestured to the belt loop of her pants where the hilt of the knife was just barely seen. “Mother doesn’t know I have it, and I intend to keep it that way.”  
“Good.” He ruffled her hair. “I taught you well, kid. Hope you get to use it.”  
“Maybe at some point. I honestly don’t want to have to use it anytime soon, because that would mean there was some bastard who was trying to take advantage of me or trying to steal my coin pouch.” Abel snickered at the thought. “He wouldn’t succeed in either.”  
“Don’t worry. If, somehow, you don’t take care of that bastard, I’ll be happy to do it for you free of charge,” Kenny offered. “Think of it as the family discount.”  
She laughed loudly at the thought. “Family discount, my ass. I would be owing you for the rest of my life. And what a nightmare that would be.”  
“See? You’re smarter than those assholes you call ‘parents’ give you credit for,” he pointed out simply. “That’s why you’re my favorite, champ. You’ve got so much promise that no one else has. You don’t take shit from anyone, least of all me. There’s a fire in you. Don’t let your family make you lose it.” He paused for a moment, considering his options. “You know... if they keep strangling the life out of you, I’d be willing to make arrangements to get you out of there. Wouldn’t that be nice? A life away from the Reiss family. No more dealing with political mumbo-jumbo no one gives a shit about. No more being looked down at because you weren’t number one on the birthing table.”  
Abel was speechless for a long minute, weighing the options. On the one hand, it was a very tempting offer. Being free of the constraints her parents were constantly forcing on her, and allowing her to be herself? Hell, maybe it would make a future with Dillon even easier to attain. She internally grinned at the thought. And yet… she felt her thoughts drift to her siblings. She couldn’t honestly picture life without them, as dysfunctional as the family dynamics could be at times. And even if her uncle could pull the strings to free her from living under the Reiss family roof, she had a feeling that her parents wouldn’t allow her to go so easily, and they would make life away from them worse than living with them. And being a young noblewoman living on her own? She would be an easy target for all sorts of low-life scum and arrogant, drunken bastards. Even with the skills she had, she didn’t feel prepared to face all of that.  
All of this still swirling in her mind, she finally replied. “Thanks for the offer, Uncle Kenny, but I think I’m better off sticking with them for now. For all the rough times and stupid rules, I still got pretty lucky with the family that I’m in. If that ever changes, you’ll be the first to know though.”  
"I'll hold you to that," Kenny swore with a smirk. "But if I find out you don't like beer or wine, I'm disowning you in a heartbeat."  
“If I had to guess, I’m going to say wine is going to taste better than beer or ale. The smell alone on those is enough to disgust me,” Abel said, making a face.  
Kenny scoffed. "Your sister is a good drinker, you know."  
She glanced up at him. “What are you trying to say?”  
"Nothing. Just that Frieda knows how to enjoy a good drink. Would be a shame if you didn't."  
“Oh, you’re going to regret insinuating that I can’t!” Abel swore with an evil grin. “Just wait and see.”

\---------------------------------

Five breath mints plus gargling water managed to get rid of "booze breath" as Kenny decided to call it. But it did little to hide the slight wobble in her steps as the alcohol was metabolizing through her body. She was silently praying that nobody would notice, and that it would be gone by the time the dancing began. She had promised to only have one drink. She had three! If it wasn't for Kenny dragging her out of the bar, she would've been moving onto number four. At least she was still his favorite niece, and that made the whole situation worth it.  
"Oh, son of a bitch!" Seemed like Dirk was having an issue down the hall.  
Abel set down the now-empty glass of water she’d been chugging, and headed to where her brother was. “What’s wrong, Dirk?”  
He sighed and turned to face her. "Something stupid." As usual, he was dressed in the finest suits Wall Sina could offer. It helped that his growth spurt was nonexistent. However, he was only wearing one glove and the other one had be tossed against the wall.   
“Here, I can help. Did you want the empty finger filled, or removed?” Abel asked, stooping to pick up the offending object. She braced herself against the wall when she felt lightheaded after straightening.  
"I don't know, Abel." He glumly sat on the closed toilet, staring at his hand. "When I put on that glove, it just made it worse. I looked like a freak. I know I'm not a normal kid in this family, but… like I said, it's stupid."  
Abel leaned over and gave him a hug. “It’s not stupid if it’s how you feel. I’ve got something we can stuff in the finger of the glove if you’d like so it’s not noticeable. Don’t let stupid gloves ruin your night.”  
He thought about it for a moment. He would physically fit the norm if she put cotton inside or something along those lines. However, what came out of his mouth was different. "You know what? Screw it. Everyone in these Walls knows what happened to me. They've had over a year to get over the thought of a Reiss with four fingers. Abel, care to do the honors of cutting off the middle slot?"  
She grinned at him. “With pleasure.” She grabbed the small clutch that matched her dress and pulled it open, withdrawing her treasured belt knife. With one quick motion, the offending fabric was removed, leaving a slightly ragged hole in its place. She tucked the knife away again, and handed the glove back to her brother. “All yours again.”  
Slowly, Dirk took the enhanced glove back. "You were way too excited to do that."  
“Can you blame me? I finally had a reason to use my knife,” Abel retorted.  
He picked up the fallen, glove finger and held it up. “Hmm… maybe I can put my real finger in this and mount it on the wall. We can insert a plaque beneath it, too. Giving the Reiss Finger.” He chuckled at the thought. “Look at that, Abel. I’ll achieve immortality.”  
“Umm, hate to break it to you, but that missing digit was buried the week you got home,” she said bluntly.  
“Ugh.” He flicked the piece onto Abel’s nose. “Crush my hopes and dreams, why don’t you?”  
“Always happy to help,” she snarked. “Anything else while I’m at it? Perhaps some additional despair to pair with all the ‘crushed dreams’ of yours?”  
“Yeah.” Dirk reached past her and closed the door. “How about we talk about your secret boyfriend.”  
Abel’s eyes flew wide. “Wait, how do you know about that?”  
He smirked. “I didn’t. It was a shot in the dark. I knew you were sending letters through one of the servants, but I didn’t know to who.”  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Abel scowled and looked away. “So what if I am?”  
“Abel, this is big. Bigger than Frieda when she’s a Titan,” Dirk explained excitedly. “Come on, you know I can keep a secret. What’s his name?”  
“His name is Dillon. He’s in training to be a blacksmith. He’s the one who made my knife,” she replied, gripping her bag tighter. “If our parents find out I’m seeing someone without their permission, I’m screwed.”  
He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Wait, Dillon… Amsdale? The same guy that’s helping make Frieda’s sword? Huh. Neat. That explains why you haven’t complained to us about wearing a dress. You’re trying to look good for him.”  
She bit her lip, thinking about protesting, but instead cracked a smile. “Is it that obvious?”  
“A little too obvious.” Dirk lowered his voice even more just to be on the safe side. “If you want to keep our parents out of the loop, you’re gonna need to act a bit more… Abel-like.”  
“Please. They are too distracted by Frieda to notice anything right now, especially not me,” she fired back. “Otherwise, we’d have actually celebrated my birthday.”  
“Oh, dear Goddess. Abel, what’s the number one rule in this family?”  
“Which one? ‘All hail Queen Frieda’?” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “Or was it the one about never underestimating our family?”  
“The second one. That goes for our parents, too.” Dirk’s tone was uncharacteristically serious, even for him. “If they even get a whiff that something is out of place, you’ll be in their crosshairs before you can even come up with a better excuse. Abel, as someone who pulls pranks… or used to, take my word for it. Don’t give them an inch.”  
“I won’t let them know. I can’t. Dirk, I love him. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” she confessed. “I don’t want to risk losing him.”  
“Then do what you do best.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Act like a stubborn bitch.”  
She grinned at him. “You know I can pull that off. And I’ve got you to back me up.”

\--------------------------

The castle’s largest ballroom was the place to be for the Founder’s Day Ball each year, and this one, despite being delayed, was no exception. The traditional Founder’s Day banners adorned each of the walls, and the floor had been cleared to leave ample room for dancing. An upper balcony overlooked the room, though this year it was notably left empty, reserved only for the ruler of the Walls. Below the balcony was the orchestra pit, filled with instrumentalists who focused on keeping the mood as light and gallant as possible. The ballroom opened into the large reception room that went from being set up to receive guests on official business to the king to serving as the hall for refreshments. It was all truly a spectacular sight to behold.  
Of course, the minute the Reiss family came into the building, all eyes were on them. Urklyn, Dirk, and Rod all wore matching, black tuxedos, bowties, and shoes that any light source could reflect off them. There was enough gel in their hair to be used as concrete for bricks. The girls were no less elegant. Greta had decreed that they would all wear varying shades of green, and so it was done. Florian had a soft, pastel green shade for her dress, trimmed in white lace, Abel’s was more the shade of spring grass, decorated with black ribbons. Frieda’s was the most elegant, the snug emerald sheath dress contouring to her curves perfectly. The matriarch of the Reiss family wore a darker shade that was nearly black, and a rare smile graced her face.  
Urklyn let out an impressed whistle. “Damn, they really went all out with this ball.”  
“I hope they’ve got good music in their repertoire,” Dirk said. “Classical music is nice and all, but it gets old after a while.”  
The elder brother sighed. “Dirk, for one night, keep the commentary to yourself.”  
“That’s not a suggestion, that’s an order,” Rod cut in. “I expect everyone to be perfect tonight, so there can be nothing negative said in regards to our family.”  
“Don’t worry, Father,” Florian assured, giving him a curtsey. “We won’t cause trouble tonight.”  
“Which is why Kenny is staying outside,” Greta pointed out with clenched teeth. She wanted to keep smiling.   
Abel rolled her eyes and looked bored. “Well, at least the dancers don’t look like they all suck,” she said with a sigh. She had taken Dirk’s advice to heart and was doing her best to push the limits of “best behavior” while still maintaining her overall attitude of the entire situation.  
“Are any of them my age?” Dirk wondered.  
Frieda finally broke her silence, her eyes skimming the room. “Why don’t you go ask someone to dance and find out?” she said sweetly.  
“What, no grandiose monologue before we get to the…?” The younger brother’s voice trailed off as Rod fixed him a glare. “Sorry. No commentary.”  
With Dirk’s final comment, the group slowly scattered. Florian heard the laughter of young children and quickly found herself dancing, or what would pass for dancing with Nile Dok’s four year old twins. Abel found herself dancing with a man who had to be at least ten years older than her father, much to her chagrin. Dirk managed to get lucky with one of the dancers that seemed only a year older than him. She didn’t seem to mind the missing finger and her face expressed sympathy. Dirk looked ready to propose to her on the spot after that. Urklyn didn’t have much luck, so he meandered around like a lost puppy, hoping that someone would take pity on him and offer him a dance… preferably one from the female category of humanity.  
“Why don’t I help you get started, Urklyn?” Greta offered with a warm smile, holding out her arm for him to take.  
He returned the smile and accepted the arm. “Thanks, Mother.”  
Frieda had no shortage of dance partners. She laughed and smiled, acting every part of the gracious noblewoman she was expected to be. Even when her partner was a head shorter than she was, a number of years younger, and had a hard time not stepping on her skirt. Or on her toes.  
“Sorry, sorry,” her partner apologized repeatedly and quite profusely.  
“It’s okay. It just takes some practice,” the young queen replied, giving him a warm smile and fighting to hide a grimace when he accidentally bumped them into Abel and her new, but still much older partner. “Perhaps it would help if you danced with someone a touch shorter? I think the height difference might be throwing you off.”  
“No, no, I can do this,” the boy assured. “I need the practice. One more chance?”  
Another hand tapped Frieda’s shoulder. “My apologies, young man. But I’m afraid I’m being asked by another. Perhaps my sister Abel might like to take a turn?” She bumped her sister’s elbow to catch her attention.  
Abel fought to keep from rolling her eyes when her breathless partner waved her off instead of saying a polite “thank you for the dance”. She turned to see who Frieda was referring to, and fought to contain a grin when her eyes landed on her klutzy boyfriend. “I might give him a chance. Depends though. I don’t even know his name.”  
Frieda gave a musical laugh. “This is Dillon. I think he’s more suited for dancing with someone like you. I think I intimidated him with my height.”  
“I’m not intimidated,” Dillon said, keeping his voice down. “I like tall people. Uh, wait. Not like that. Oh, dear God, I’ve just declared war on the Reiss family.”  
Abel rolled her eyes. “Smooth talker, this one. Well, then, Dillon, shall we try a dance or do you want to keep making a fool out of yourself in front of my sister?”  
Frieda chuckled. “I’ll leave you to it then,” and spun away in the arms of a man that clearly didn’t have the looks of a noble, but looked like he’d be more at home in the sun all day.  
“Too much?” Dillon asked as he held out his hands to Abel.  
“Maybe slightly. But it’s part of your charm,” she replied with a slight giggle. “You never have been the best with your words. You can be smooth sometimes, but other times... “  
“I’m lucky the world didn’t end?” he finished for her. “In all seriousness, I still can’t dance. Help me.”  
She moved them carefully toward the edge of the room. “First of all, you’ll want to make sure you’re not in the middle of the room. You’re more apt to bumping into people there. And I mean, Frieda is pretty much the center of the Walls right now, so… that probably wasn’t the wisest move for you.”  
“Sorry. I wanted to see if she could teach me before I ran into you so I wouldn’t screw this up,” he explained. “Two minutes wasn’t enough time.”  
“That wasn’t two minutes. You had a whole dance, and given how long the songs are? It was at least five minutes. You lasted longer than I expected,” Abel gave a slightly suggestive smile before changing the subject. “It’s cute that you wanted to practice so you wouldn’t screw up though.”  
“Thanks.” A blush came upon his face. “I apologize in advance if I step on your toes.”  
“Here. The easiest way to avoid that is if we,” she acted as she spoke, “Step closer together so that your feet are around mine, Then, you wrap your arm around my waist.” She turned them slowly around to the rhythm. “Look at the older couple there by the far wall. See how they’re moving? Mimic that.”  
Dillon’s eyes watched the elderly couple for a moment. Unlike the sweeping dancing in the middle of the room, this was slow, and intimate. The steps taken were half steps, turning them in a slow, complete circle, while maintaining gracefulness that matched the mood of the music. The old woman’s head rested on the man’s shoulder, and she allowed her husband to guide her. On instinct, his hand wrapped tighter around Abel’s waist, pulling her close like he was about to kiss her. He moved slowly, and his toes stepped on hers for the first several steps, but by the time they’d finished the full circle of the waltz, he’d gotten the hang of it.  
Abel’s breath caught in her throat when Dillon pulled her in close, and she leaned in, resting her head against his chest. The noises around seemed to fade away as she focused on the closeness and the comforting sound of his heartbeat. She felt a peace wash over her, unlike anything that she’d felt before meeting him. She caught the soft scent she’d come to recognize as being uniquely his: a lingering aroma of metal, and the clean shampoo that he used. She loved that smell. It reminded her of the hours that felt like mere minutes that they spent kissing, away from the wandering eyes of their families. She couldn’t get enough.  
On Dillon’s end, the moves became automatic to the point where he could safely close his eyes without a single worry. Smooth hair with the scent of lilacs, beautiful eyes that looked up at him every now and then. This girl, this… woman, was truly someone special. Whatever deity existed, he thanked for the chance to share a dance with her. At this moment, he wondered if this is truly what it was like to be in love.  
They could’ve done this for hours were it not for a strong liquid splashing onto them along with glass breaking. The dancing came to an abrupt halt, both sets of eyes on the embarrassed perpetrator. It was, of course, Dirk, who had dropped a tray of wine glasses at their feet.  
“I’m sorry,” the teenager said with wide eyes. “I… I was gonna offer you two to have a sip of this stuff.”  
“Dirk Reiss!” The matriarch was approaching fast and with a vengeance.  
Abel pulled herself back from Dillon, scowling when she saw the entire front of her dress soaked in red wine. “Dirk, I swear upon all that is holy--”  
“Oh, Goddess above.” Greta briefly turned her attention on Dillon. “Please excuse my son. He’s still learning to hold things after the loss of his finger.”  
“It’s, uh, okay, I think,” Dillon replied as several servants ran to the floor to immediately clean the mess up.  
“Abel, you and this young man should head home before the wine stains your clothes. He can stay in one of our guest rooms for the night.” Greta dragged Dirk by the arm towards a private room in order to “educate” him on social propriety. Only Abel could see a wink thrown at her by the impish teenager. He set this whole thing up.  
Abel grabbed Dillon by the sleeve. “Come on. Let’s head back to the house. I think Urklyn’s got a change of clothes you can use while the servants are cleaning your suit.”  
“Thank you,” he said gratefully as he allowed Abel to drag him away to her home. He had never been inside a mansion before. This was going to be amazing.

\----------------------------------------

With it being the evening of the Founder’s Day Ball, naturally there were only a couple of servants on duty at the mansion. Ironically enough, one of them happened to be Meghan, the maid that Abel used to carry their letters back and forth. Abel quickly introduced her to Dillon properly before requesting a change of clothes and for both of their outfits to be quickly laundered.   
“Of course, young mistress. Shall there be anything else?” Meghan asked.   
“Set up the guest room next to my bedroom for Dillon, please. He’s going to be staying the night since it’ll take you some time to properly clean his suit,” Abel replied quickly.  
“This house is so big,” Dillon said, his eyes glazing over every corner he could spot. “There’s so much… who’s that woman?” He pointed to a, thankfully, clothed painting of Ymir Fritz.  
“Oh, that? You mean you’ve never seen any portraits of Ymir Fritz before?”  
“Never heard of her,” he admitted sheepishly. “Is she related to you?”  
“Not exactly,” she replied slowly. “Ymir Fritz is the Founder. She’s also worshipped as a goddess by a handful of people. My family happens to be one of those that choose to do so.”  
“Oh… the lecture.” Now, DIllon felt stupid. “Sorry. I kind of… didn’t pay attention during Founder’s Day when that teacher gave her speech.”  
“Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone did, unless it was Frieda,” Abel made a face. “But yeah. My parents and Frieda especially are extremely religious. I sit through the sermons and such because I’m forced to. Not really sure how I feel about religion as a whole.”  
“I’m not sure how to feel about it either. I mean, you get the idiot Wall Worshippers preaching about the sacred Walls that managed to be broken with no consequences to the Titans, but… I can’t help but wonder if there’s someone out there.” He paused for a moment. “It’s hard to imagine in this world, isn’t it?”  
“You said it. If she really was the Goddess like they claim she is, you’d think she’d have done something about all this by now. But enough talk about religious bullshit. I’ve got more to show you.” Abel took his hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”  
“Mistress? Here’s the changes of clothing you requested. Leave the soiled ones outside the door, and I’ll take care of them immediately,’ Meghan appeared before they could get more than halfway up the stairs.   
Abel took the offered clothes and handed the men’s set to Dillon. “Here you go. These are Urklyn’s, so they might be a bit big. But for sleepwear, I’m sure it’ll work just fine.”  
“Thanks, Abel,” he replied, taking them. “So… I guess this is good night, then. I appreciate you all letting me stay over.”  
“You don’t have to go to bed yet. It’s still early. Just change, and once I’m dressed, we can sit and talk for awhile. It’ll be hours before anyone is home, anyway,” Abel pointed out, nudging him toward the bedroom. “Bathroom is across the hall from your room.”  
He nodded his thanks and trudged into the bathroom to wear the baggiest clothes in existence.  
Abel hurried to take off the stained dress and pull on a clean nightgown, brushing out her hair and her teeth before she poked her head out the door, dumping the soiled garment onto the floor as requested. “Dillon? You done changing?”  
“I knew he was tall, but come on!” Dillon, then, stepped out wearing Urklyn’s pajamas. It was a shirt down to his knees and pants, the latter of which had a rope wrapped around them three times to keep them up. The sleeves on both the shirt and pants were so long, it was possible another person would have to join them to fill them in.   
Abel burst out laughing. “Lose the pants. They aren’t needed. The shirt is plenty long enough.”  
His face turned red. “Um… I think I should keep them for modesty’s sake.”  
Her cheeks turned pink but she didn’t back down. “Dillon, it’s just us. You don’t need the fucking pants.”  
“But it is just us. It wouldn’t be proper if I--.”  
She stepped across the hall and ended his protest with a kiss that left both of them breathless. “Dillon. You don’t need them. Trust me,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.   
His eyes widened in pure shock. “Wait… is this heading where I think this is heading?”  
She nodded, her face turning a deeper shade of red. “Please, Dillon. It’s my birthday. Consider this the best gift you could give me. I want this.”  
“Just had to play that card, didn’t you?” Then, he decided to try his hand at flirting again. “Well, who am I to deny a beautiful lady such as yourself?”  
She practically yanked him into the guest room, kicking the door shut behind them none-too-gently.  
Meghan walked by a few minutes later, and shook her head, hearing the sounds coming from the guest room. “I hope you know what you’re doing, mistress,” she whispered, then carried on with her work.

\----------------------------

It was around midnight when the ball finally came to its end. Thankfully, aside from Dirk's apparent clumsiness, there were no other incidents. No drunkards soiled the dance, and no couples tried to sneak into an empty room to fornicate. That being said, Frieda nearly screamed internally at how many times she had to give farewells. She lost count after twenty-five, and even that was too much. Once the last guest had vanished, the servants quickly got to work with the cleaning. Perfect opportunity for her to change into something a lot more comfortable.  
"Um, Frieda?" Florian had been quiet in approaching her and hesitant in her tone. Already, the eldest sibling could tell something was up.  
"What's wrong, Flo?" she asked in a concerned tone.   
"Is there…" Florian's darted to the side briefly as if she was being followed. "I need to talk to you alone."  
Gently, the soon-to-be-public queen led her into an empty dressing room. She made sure the door was locked tight before asking, "What's going on?"  
"It's… it's about Urklyn…"


	31. Revelations

There were few things that could get sixteen-year-old Abel to smile. The first would be seeing something stupid that one of her siblings had done, whether intentionally or unintentionally. The second was Dillon. The loveable dork had a tendency to return her snark back to her with ease, whether on paper or in person. And getting to see him was enough to give her a big smile. And time with him outside of prying eyes? Even better. She had thought kissing him was the best part of having a boyfriend. Her birthday taught her otherwise. She grinned at him when Urklyn ducked into the kitchen to talk with Carolyn about the ceremonial swords they were picking up for the boys to wear during Frieda’s coronation the following day. With Matthew being gone to deliver an order to another wealthy noble family, it was almost too easy for Dillon to take her hand and slip upstairs for some ‘alone time’ as they had dubbed it.  
It had been about a week since the last time they’d managed to sneak off together. Over the five months since her birthday, it was rare for them to go more than several days without seeing each other, if not spending time in each other’s arms. She’d gotten lax about trying to muffle her sounds when they were intimate. After all, he was quite skilled at bringing out the best reactions in her.   
"Did your breasts get bigger?" he asked in the middle of their lovemaking.  
Abel’s eyes went from being closed to open wide. “Possibly? I don’t exactly keep track unless I need a new bra,” she retorted, closing them again. A breathy moan escaped from her lips as he shifted.  
"Well, they feel bigger." Slowly, he trailed down her body. "Let's see how else your body has changed."  
She cracked an eye open. “What are you planning?”  
"I'll give you a hint," he said in an attempt at sounding husky. His tongue got to work.  
Her sounds got immediately louder, and she wrapped her fingers in his hair, pinning him in place with her hands and her thighs.  
"A-Abel!" Dillon's voice was considerably muffled now.  
She had a shiver run over her from his actions, and she freed a hand, tugging the blanket only over her chest to try and warm herself up. “Holy shit, don’t stop,” she whimpered.  
"But Abel, I'm stuck," he protested, attempting to shift his head which increased her erotic sensations. It didn't help matters that her hand came right back on him.  
“Damn right, you’re stuck. And I’m not letting you free yet, but it’ll be worth it when I do,” she promised, shrieking when his tongue caressed a tender area.  
Then, the bedroom door was kicked open hard enough for the hinges to come undone. The source was a certain big brother she knew, yet did not love today. "Abel!" he shouted.  
Abel gave a scream and scrambled backwards, smacking her head on the wall above the bed, frantically trying to cover herself with the blanket. In her desperate state, she accidentally kicked Dillon in the face, sending him crashing to the floor with an impressive thud. Unfortunately, now Urklyn had a view no one outside of a lover should be forced to see.   
As if this situation wasn't bad enough, a pissed-off Carolyn joined Urklyn. She looked down at her son, and then she glared at the naked brunette in his bed. "Hello, ‘Meghan’," she greeted coldly. "Get dressed. Both of you. Now.”  
\--------------------------------------------

There were many times in her life that Carolyn thought she would she would suffer an aneurysm. Working as a lawyer for certain nobles usually had that effect on her, especially if her clients acted like they wanted to be guilty. Today, however, her son was the cause of this feeling. “So, ‘Meghan’ is actually Abel Reiss,” she said with gritted teeth. It was best to start with summing up the facts. “And you two have been seeing each other frequently, without my knowledge, mind you. Then, I find you two upstairs with you only--.” She pointed at Abel. “--wearing a blanket and my son in his birthday suit. What do you have to say for yourselves?”  
Dillon gulped nervously. “M-Mom, I, uh… Abel and I… we’re kind of a thing.”  
Urklyn gave him a blank stare. “Really? That’s all you’ve got?” He glared at his sister. “You’ve been risking the wrath of our family for this guy? Seriously?”   
She gave him a look that was purely Abel. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I love him.”  
“And I love her,” Dillon added.  
“Good for you.” His sarcasm was so heavy, it could crush the house they were in. “How long has this been going on, Abel?”  
She stared back at her brother. “How long has what been going on, Urklyn?”  
“Damn it, Abel. I am not in the mood for your shit today,” Urklyn growled in annoyance.  
Carolyn intervened before things could escalate. “Urklyn, you’re confusing the two more than anything. It’s about time we explain what’s going on... for their sake.”  
Dillon raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”  
Urklyn looked ready to strangle a cat, but he couldn’t exactly blame Abel for seeing Dillon, especially when she was so ignorant of the facts. “Kid, you’re caught in the middle of a very nasty crossfire, and so are you, Abel. You ever ask yourselves what we’ve been doing when we leave without any real explanations?”  
“Oh, my God… Mom, are you… having an affair?”  
The room was dead silent as all eyes hit upon the clueless teen.  
Carolyn’s face went extremely red as she cleared her throat. “Dillon, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”  
“Again, why him?” Urklyn asked Abel.  
“Because he gives a shit about me, that’s why,” Abel snapped, pressing herself closer to her boyfriend, as if to shield him from her brother.  
Urklyn wanted to comment how her “boyfriend” seemed to have the brain power of a man trying to make bricks out of tin cans, but that probably wouldn’t go over well with Abel, much less the boy’s mother. “Long story short: Carolyn and I are trying to take Father down, Abel.”   
Out of every possible scenario she could imagine, that was not one of them. And for him to say so casually, so bluntly, it was unreal. “Take him down for what?! What the fuck are you talking about?” Abel blurted, unable to wrap her head around the insanity she was hearing.  
“There were many people your father murdered to get where he is now, Abel,” Carolyn explained, handing her what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Inside, you’ll find murders and cover-ups all linking back to Rod. You should recognize a few of the names.”  
Abel snatched the book and yanked it open. Her eyes darted over the pages that were neatly organized, a timeline of events that spanned for years. Her mouth fell open when she realized what she was seeing. “... no. NO! This can’t be right. There’s no way that Kenny… no. He wouldn’t do that, not to Dirk.” She shook her head vehemently as she recognized more names. The Garbers. Carly Stratmann. She snapped it closed and shoved the book back at her brother. “Why would you accuse Father and Uncle Kenny of such things? You can’t have the evidence of it. There’s no way they would do such things!” Her voice had nearly reached a screech with her protests.  
“I was there, Abel!” Urklyn shot back. “Don’t you think it’s a little convenient that Father took me on a trip the same evening that the Garbers were massacred? You know what happened that night? He forced me to watch him and Kenny kill every single person in that house. And don’t you think it’s a little odd that Dirk just happened to be kidnapped the one time Kenny was ‘unavailable’ to keep him company? It was all a setup to get to me. Kenny even gloated to me about it in prison and threatened to kill you, Dirk, and Florian if I tried to stop him.”  
Abel’s eyes drifted to Dillon, but he looked as shocked as she was. She took his hand, and interlaced her fingers with his, squeezing it as a way to try and calm some of her stress and his, too. “Let’s say that I believe you... What happens when you try to take them down?”  
Carolyn finally spoke after all that. “I’ve been making arrangements to put my husband and Dillon in hiding very soon. Things are starting to come to a head now that Frieda is going to be crowned Queen. I have many informants in the Interior, but not all of them have the will to face up against torture. They’ll be closing in on us soon.”  
Urklyn looked away, knowing full well that outcome was his fault. No use in commenting on it, though.  
This wasn't a badly conceived prank. This was real and plain as the nose on her face. Urklyn was conspiring against her father, against her family. She didn't know what to feel about this. Angry? Concerned? Afraid? The latter won. To think of how bad things would get when Urklyn made his move… no. No more of this bullshit. “Take me with you. Wherever you take Dillon, I want to be with him,” Abel said suddenly. “If things are going to come to that point, and you’re going to be going against Father and Kenny, I want to be at a place where I can protect him. Kenny taught me how to fight, and I don’t want to risk being kept away from him where I can’t use the skills I have.”  
“Abel, don’t.” Dillon’s quiet voice was heard at last. He sounded quite upset after the things that were said to him, and he was trying to figure things out. “If you go with me, you’ll be in danger, too.”  
“But I’ll be in danger either way, if what they’re saying is true,” Abel argued. She pressed her head against Dillon’s chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. “I can’t lose you.”  
Urklyn let out a heavy sigh. He wasn't surprised that Abel wanted out of this whole thing. He felt like a jackass that he didn't give her or any of his siblings an out sooner. None of them deserved this. He slowly approached his sister and knelt to her level. "After the coronation tomorrow, slip out while everyone is busy worshipping Frieda. It's the only chance you'll get it. I'll find a way to cover your tracks."  
Abel threw her arms around Urklyn’s neck in a tight hug. “Thank you, Urkie,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re the best.” Her heart swelled with excitement and contentment. She was going to be with Dillon, just like she wanted. She’d be able to protect him, no matter what came their way. She pulled back and went to hug Dillon instead.  
"Hold it!" Carolyn demanded, halting her actions. "Let's get something straight, Abel. You want to keep this relationship going? Fine. You want to have sex with my son? Good for you. Don't come crying if you get pregnant. But let me make something clear: if I catch the both of you going at each other in our home ever again, I will give you a sight so scarring that neither of you will want to sleep with each other, or anyone else. Do I make myself clear?”  
Her seventeen year old son’s eyes were wide with terror, but his head bobbed up and down like a frantic woodpecker. "Yes, Mom. It won't happen again!"  
The lawyer's eyes slowly drifted to Abel. "And you… young lady?" Her voice dropped to a very low tone.  
“Yes, ma’am,” Abel said, her eyes low.   
"Speak up and look at me!"  
Her eyes flew to meet the older woman’s. “Yes, ma’am,” she repeated louder. “We won’t let you down.” She couldn’t fault Carolyn for being harsh, and internally, she secretly thought they were being let off easy. She could only imagine what her own mother’s reaction would be when she found out. She silently prayed that day would be a long time coming.  
Carolyn nodded, satisfied with the answers. "Now, then, since you two were kind enough to redecorate the room with your bodily fluids, you're going to clean everything up starting now. If that room of yours isn't spotless… well, I'll let you wonder. Go!"  
The two teenagers flew off the couch and darted towards Dillon's room like a couple of frightened deer.  
The lawyer groaned in frustration. "In his own room, for God's sake. What were they thinking?"  
"They weren't," Urklyn responded. "They're dumb kids in love."  
She sighed with a shake of her head. "My son is growing up, but he'd better not grow up too fast. He's not ready for the responsibilities that come with being in a romantic relationship."  
“Neither is Abel, but even with her stupid decisions, she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Urklyn pointed out.  
"Well, now that the two are occupied, and YOU'D BETTER BE OCCUPIED WITH THE CLEANING AND NOT EACH OTHER… I have something important I need to give you."  
“What do you need to give me? Should I be worried?” Urklyn cracked a slight smile.  
She didn't return it. "You should always be worried." Carefully, the lawyer handed him the scrapbook. "I want you to have this to make sure you and your siblings remember, always remember, why you're going to fight your father. Things are going to get worse before they get better, Urklyn."  
His eyes widened as he took the offered collection of documents. “I get the feeling that you’ve put a lot of time and thought into this, haven’t you.” It wasn’t phrased as a question. “I won’t let you down, Carolyn. Not again.”  
"See that you don't because there's more to it. Listen carefully…"

\----------------------------------------

“Damn it, Caven!” Kenny swore from the other side of the bathroom door. “Can’t Rod find some bitch off the street to do this shit? He’s cutting into my sex life, and that pisses me off!”  
The blonde rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. “That tub of lard is too paranoid to trust some ‘bitch off the street’, and you know it. So, lucky me, I get to go out on a date.” She opened the bathroom door, revealing the slinky, extremely low-cut black dress she had pulled from her closet. “You can look, but don’t touch. I don’t need this slimeball getting scared off because I smell like I’ve been in a whorehouse all day.”  
“Hmph.” For once, the psychopath decided to behave himself. “You read his file. Outside of his so-called drinkin--.” Kenny would kill him just for fabricating having a good time with booze. It was a disgrace. “--he’s the spitting image of a gentleman. The way he acts, probably a virgin, too. You gonna take that schmuck for the ride of his life?”   
“Hell no. He wouldn’t last even five minutes with a woman like me, and I’m not in the mood for disappointment,” Caven replied without missing a beat. She bent over and pulled a pair of stilettos from under the bed, giving him a view of just how short the skirt on the dress was. “Especially given that condition he’s gotta take the fucking meds every damn day. I should be thanking you for getting the information. It would be a damn, crying shame if someone were to exploit such a weakness.”  
“But you’re such a woman of virtue and compassion, you wouldn’t dare to even consider such a horrible thing,” Kenny responded with an evil grin. “Tell you what, though: you get him to your room, and I’ll make sure it’ll be a night to remember.”  
“Kenny, I’ll send you to hell myself if you even think of killing the bastard in my house! I don’t need another fucking mess to clean up,” she snapped. She crossed the room and picked up the small bottle on the counter, and pulled out one of the pills, holding it towards the light. “I have to say, these came out better than I thought they would. He won’t know what hit him.”  
“Enjoy your date, Caven, and get back here quickly. I plan to make up for lost time.”  
“Of course you do,” she deadpanned. “One of these nights, I’m going to force you to take me out on the town so I can get dressed up without having to schmooze some dick.”  
“Then you’re gonna to be very convincing to get me to consider that,” Kenny warned lecherously. “And I mean… very convincing.”   
She dropped the pill back into the bottle and closed it tightly, dropping it into her clutch. “Should be like giving candy to a child. Simple replacement of his bottle with mine, and we’ll have the info that your boss wants in no time.”  
“You know I don’t care about that crap. Just get out of here,” he said, waving her off.  
She flipped him off over her shoulder, walking out the door. Fortunately, she wouldn’t have too far to go for this so-called ‘date’.

\--------------------------------  
Lieutenant Sigmund Blau waited in front of the bar for the past thirty minutes. He knew he was incredibly early, but in case she was early, there was no way he would make her wait for him. He didn’t have enough money to purchase a suit, and there was no way he would wear civilian scrubs on a date with a beautiful woman. So, he decided to settle on his military uniform.  
“Well, I feel a touch overdressed. Had I known you’d be in uniform, I might have chosen differently,” Caven laughed sheepishly as she approached the man. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”  
For a moment, the lieutenant was starstruck, entranced by the beauty of this woman. However, unlike teenagers, he managed to compose himself very quickly and responded with, “I wasn’t. You look beautiful tonight, Miss Caven.”  
“You can drop the ‘miss.’ We’re casual tonight, right?” she said flirtatiously. “Shall we head inside? I can use a drink after the day I had.”  
He held the door open for her. “After you.”  
“Thank you,” she said sweetly, letting her hand brush across him “by accident” as she walked inside and took a seat at an empty, corner booth. “I’m going to need something stronger than wine tonight. What are you having?”  
“I’m just gonna have water,” he answered, sitting across from her. “I’m trying to cut down on the alcohol. It’s been… causing me problems lately.”  
She gave a pout. “I can’t convince you to have even one with me?” she coaxed. “It’s hardly fun to drink alone.”  
“Sorry, Caven. I can’t risk it. Someday, I’d like to, but tonight… I’m sorry.” Mannerisms aside, he was a very good actor, giving the right amount of inflection and that haunted voice as if being a drunk was slowly destroying his life.  
She leaned back in her seat, disappointment on her face. “It’s a shame, but I suppose it’s for the best. I hope that you won’t mind if I still drink. I would hate to cause you any issues.”  
“No, go ahead. I’m not a fanatic who’s against alcohol,” Sigmund assured. “So, what’s it like being in the Military Police?”  
She rolled her eyes. “You had to ask, today of all days. I had my ass handed to me by my commander for not having caught a perpetrator that we’ve been trying to catch for the last two months.”  
“Damn. Sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten chewed out by my commanding officer. Granted, most of the time, it was my fault, so there’s that.”  
She looked bored, and scanned the room. “Slow, fucking service here. I’m going to the counter for my drink. I’ll get your water too.” She pushed herself to her feet, making sure he got a good view of her cleavage as she grabbed her clutch, then turned, walking to the bar.  
“Far be it from me to let you be alone up there.” Sigmund stood up, too, and followed her to the bar. “We can continue our conversation over here.”  
“But we’ll lose our booth,” she protested, trying to shoo him away. “It’ll just take me a second to get our drinks.”  
“Good point.” He removed his military jacket and draped it over his seat. “There we go. No moron would try to steal a lieutenant’s booth, would they?”  
This bastard is smarter than I gave him credit for, Caven thought to herself, masking a sigh as she ordered her double shot of whiskey and his water. “I don’t suppose they would.”  
“It’s good work you officers do in the Interior,” Sigmund commented. “Keeping the peace, protecting the king, putting bad guys away. Me? I just guard a giant-ass, cement block for a living.”  
“Protecting the king? Please, I’m not nearly charismatic enough to be put on his detail. Well, I should say on her detail. Rumor has it, we’ll have a queen taking the throne tomorrow,” Caven accepted the glass the bartender handed her with a smile and gestured Sigmund back toward their booth. “If that is the case, I certainly wish her the best. It can’t be easy to rule humanity.”  
“I wouldn’t want the job, but I’d take that job over being a Scout. Waste of taxes if you ask me.” Sigmund graciously took his water and went back to his seat, making sure his jacket was out of the way.  
Caven slid into the seat next to him, keeping her disarming smile. “Well, all of the branches have their benefits, to be sure. While it might not always seem like it, each has an important job to accomplish. It’s disrespectful to those who’ve died to insinuate otherwise.”  
He sighed tiredly. “I know. I shouldn’t talk about these things, but… I can’t help but wonder what they’re commander is thinking, sending those soldiers out to die, and for what? What are they fighting for?”  
“Getting serious in our talks, I see,” she mused. “They are fighting for the good of humanity, or so it would seem. I haven’t had many interactions with the Scouts personally, but surely they have to be making progress of some sort.” Taking a sip of her whiskey, she changed the subject. “So, how do you typically spend your free time? Any enjoyable pursuits?”  
"I'm partial to artistry, actually," he admitted. "Sure, it takes forever to get the colors just right, but when you succeed, it's a thing of beauty."  
“And where do you gather your inspiration for such works?” Caven feigned interest while internally groaning. This guy was the epitome of dull, and her attempts at flirting were getting her absolutely nowhere.  
"I simply open my eyes and ears to the world around me." Of course that was his answer. "You'd be surprised what you can pick up if you really pay attention… like a shipment of rifles heading straight to the Underground in two days." He gave her a smile that turned him from the most boring human this side of the Walls to noble levels of being a bastard.   
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Caven kept her sultry tone, downplaying the shift in direction. Her hand moved under the table unseen. “You have some very important information that I’m in need of. And if you value your life, as well as that of everyone in this fine establishment, you’ll tell me what I want to hear.”  
Sigmund shook his head with a tsk. "Wow. I thought a weapons dealer would have been smarter than to bluff. I cased this bar four times before you showed up. The only thing that's here is you, sweetheart, and I doubt even an MP could get more than two people before you're filled with holes." His eyes drifted down briefly. "That a flintlock, or are you just happy to see me?"  
“Semi-automatic, actually,” she deadpanned. “And while I might not be able to take down more than a few, I can assure you, my backup is a bit more… capable. Take a look out the window.”  
While making sure to keep her in his sights, the lieutenant stared out the window and noticed a man in a black hat staring back with the widest smile he had ever seen. This was a man he only read about in the papers, a man who's feats were so sickening, so bloodthirsty, he had to have been an urban legend.  
"Kenny the Ripper," Caven confirmed as she enjoyed the mortification settling in on her opponent's face. "I'm sure you've heard of him. He certainly could end the lives of all present here and think of it as nothing more than foreplay. No one will dare to arrest him, especially when he's protected by the government. Now, give me the identity of the Restorer, or you can say goodbye to your two closest friends."  
Sigmund gulped as he realized just how completely screwed he was. While he would lay down his life for the sake of the cause, sacrificing all these innocent people would accomplish nothing but spilled blood. There was only one choice to make and he made it. "Carolyn Amsdale is the Restorer."  
Caven gave him a very satisfied smirk. “So glad that we could reach an understanding. Enjoy your water.” She tucked the gun away and strode outside, a triumphant grin covering her face. “We’re about to make your boss extremely happy. Let’s go.”  
Kenny scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. Good for Tubby, but I followed you here and I still didn't get to kill him. Damn you, woman."  
“Oh, don’t you worry. He’s not walking out of there." She gestured for him to peek back through the window.   
The psychopath glanced back and saw Sigmund facedown on the table as if he had one too many drinks. "Poison, huh?"  
“Ricin. By the time he realized he was poisoned, he was already taking his final breath.”  
The lecherous grin returned with a vengeance. "You're the best fuck-buddy I could ever ask for, Caven."  
“You know it.” She smacked his ass and began the walk back to the house. “Your boss isn’t going to believe that the Restorer has been hiding under his nose the entire time.”  
"I know. People close to him plotting such horrible crimes against him. It's a sick world we live in, isn't it?"  
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way, you sick bastard,” Caven retorted. “Come on. I need to cleanse my hands of his filthy ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude.” Maybe in another world, she might have considered a fling with a “good guy” like Blau. But here? She needed answers to save herself, and he was disposable. Most people were at the end of the day.


	32. Forged By Fire

Abel peeked over her shoulder, thankful for once that her mother was insufferable on days where there was a big event. In the bathroom that the girls shared, Greta was fussing at Florian, and the latter responded with an attitude that would rival the sixteen year old’s own. The brunette didn’t pay much attention to this, however, shoving several pairs of clean underwear into the top of the bag before shoving it back underneath her bed. She wasn’t taking much with her, just a couple of simple dresses, both pairs of her riding pants and matching blouses, plus the final items she’d just added. The practical part of her whispered in the back of her mind that she needed to pack light and not be a burden. After all, they were going into hiding, not on a vacation.  
Her mother’s screeching became especially loud, and Abel ducked across the hall, knocking on Frieda’s door. “Frieda? Can I come in?”  
“Of course, you may,” came the surprisingly docile reply.  
The middle sister slipped into the room and closed the door quickly behind her. “From the way Mother and Florian are going at each other, you’d think that Florian was the one taking the throne, not you.”  
Frieda didn’t turn from her seat in front of the mirror, choosing to look at Abel through the reflection. “I cannot say that I’m all that surprised about that. Hopefully she’ll be less uptight once I’m crowned.”  
“I highly doubt that,” Abel scoffed. “She’ll just turn her attention more on you and your appearance than on the rest of us.”  
The young queen shrugged, and went back to applying her makeup. “Possibly. Regardless, that’s the least of my concerns at the moment. At least she hasn’t been hounding me about finding another boyfriend as much.”  
“Do you feel like you’ll ever be ready for that?” The question was sudden. “And when you were with him… did you love him?”  
The makeup brush froze in Frieda’s hand, and she spun in her seat to look at her younger sister. “Hold on a moment. Why do I get the feeling that you're not asking about me so much?” Her blue eyes searched Abel’s face, noting the slight rosy hue to her cheeks underneath the makeup. The way she was biting her lower lip… it was an unusual behavior for the normally brash teen. “Oh my god. You’re not pregnant, are you?”  
“No!” Abel snapped immediately. “I’m not pregnant. I just…”  
Frieda grinned, leaning back in her chair smugly. “You just have found a boy that you really like,” she finished for her. “What’s his name? Wait, don't tell me… it's that awkward boy from the dance, isn't it?”  
“That would be Dillon,” her sister said, a smile coming to her face as she thought about her boyfriend. “He’s a year older than I am, and he’s so sweet, even if he is a terrible dancer. He makes me laugh, and he can return my sarcastic comments like nobody I’ve met outside the family.”  
The young queen gave an unladylike snicker. “Of course. Only you’d want to find someone that could return your snark without batting an eyelash. Well, I’m quite happy for you. I hope that you and Dillon find happiness together, regardless of what Mother might have to say about the situation. Have you told her yet?”  
Abel blanched. “Good goddess, no! She’d have me hung out to dry with the afternoon wash. I think I’ll wait until she broaches the subject of ‘needing to find me a suitor’ or whatever bullshit line she chooses to use on me.”  
Frieda turned back around in her chair to use the mirror once more to finish her eyeshadow. “It’s difficult for me to wrap my head around the fact that you’re old enough to have found a boyfriend. Even Florian has reached her teen years now. So much has changed with our family, and I should like to think that it’s been mostly for the better.”  
“Well, apart from what happened with Dirk, and with Urklyn getting himself into trouble.” Abel muttered.  
Frieda paused, mid-brushstroke. “Of course. Those were tragedies. But even amidst all of that, we’ve still remained a tightly knit family.”  
Abel bit back the comment that came immediately to her tongue. Tight-knit? Frieda must be looking through rose-colored glasses. The relationship Urklyn had with the rest of the siblings had been strained since his time in prison. Florian was unusually quiet or moody, more than usual. Dirk was no longer as jovial as he had been before the kidnapping. And Frieda… well, she was obsessed with becoming Queen, and now that was becoming reality. Who knew what sort of impact it would have on them now. Hell, she was leaving, and that was going to be changing the family dynamics as well. But it was going to be worth it. She just had to keep telling herself that.  
Frieda noticed that Abel had fallen quiet. “Things aren’t going to be that different after today. I'm not just the Queen; I’m still your sister.” She brushed mascara over her eyelashes before she continued. “Don’t stress over the future. I’m not, which is why I’m able to be so calm, despite the coronation beginning in two hours.”  
Abel walked over and wrapped Frieda in a hug from behind the chair. “I’ll do my best not to. And thank you for being supportive of Dillon and I. I-It means a lot to me, and I’m sure it will for him, too.”  
Frieda set the mascara wand down and turned around, returning the tight embrace. “I can’t wait to meet him someday. He must be quite a catch for you to have risked Mother’s wrath to see him.” She shot her sister a wink.  
The younger girl blushed. “You have NO idea how lucky I am to have him.”  
“Maybe not, but I can guess that you’ve gotten lucky, given how you’re reacting,” Frieda tickled her ribs, causing Abel to flinch away giggling.  
“Maybe,” she tried to be coy. “Maybe not.”  
“Uh huh. You’re not fooling me. Was it everything you thought it would be?” the young queen coaxed, grinning at her younger sister.  
“And more,” Abel smirked. “So, very much more.”  
Frieda sighed. “Someday…” she trailed off. “But today is not that day. Today, is coronation day.”  
“It’s coronation day,” Abel repeated. She felt a pang of remorse when she realized this was probably the last conversation she was going to be having one-on-one with her elder sister, and on a day of such importance to her too. But ready or not, this day had finally arrived.

\------------------------------------------

An excited buzz filled the air. Unlike the darker mood and decorations when King Fritz had died, there was anticipation and a celebratory feel in everything. Ornate silver and purple ribbons trimmed the outside and inside of the castle alike. The banners depicting the Founder, Ymir, had been brought out, but were fewer in number than on Founder’s Day. After all, Ymir would be asked to pour out her blessing on the new ruler, but the focus would be on that individual. Whispers had been spread through the nobility and the commoners regarding that person’s identity, but nothing was known. Some rumors claimed it would be Rod Reiss, the acting Regent, while others argued that because of his age, there would be another named in his place. Few knew the truth, but that was all about to change. Months of preparation and secret meetings had led to this moment. All of humanity had gathered as close to the castle as they could for the coronation.  
A hush fell over the crowd as Rod stepped up to the podium that had been set up near the front edge of the king’s balcony. Henri Nach and Emeric Braumhauer took their places a few paces behind him. Several uniformed MPs were at the back of the balcony, on either side of the large, double doors.  
The acting regent was dressed in a black tuxedo, which was not the best look for the man, though nobody dared to say it. He cleared his throat, then began an obviously rehearsed speech.  
“Humanity. Each and every one of us gathered here share a common bond. We live within these Walls, with blood flowing through our veins and giving us life. We breathe the same air, sharing aspirations, dreams, and hope. Yet even still, without rules and order, chaos will overtake us. Humans can be selfish, or selfless. While one chooses to show compassion, another may choose their own personal gain over that of their neighbor. When Ymir founded this nation, she poured her love for her fellow man into every aspect of what she did, giving her blessing to her daughter, who took the throne when she was too weak to continue ruling.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in.  
“Humanity has found itself with varied leaders over the years, but we find ourselves once more without a ruler. And what is a nation without a ruler? It falls in disarray, and leaves room for vulnerabilities of all sorts.” He looked down, emotion seeming to overtake him, even wiping a tear away from his eye. “Imagine my surprise when the late King Fritz, may Ymir bless his soul, called me into his office for a private meeting about three months prior to his death.”  
Hushed whispers stirred from those gathered below, causing Rod to pause until they died down again. “I shall never forget the look on his face when he sat me down. His countenance held both despair and exhaustion. ‘Rod, I feel that as I get older, I have more opportunity to look back upon my life, both for the good aspects, and the regrets. Of the latter, I have a great many, not the least of which being that I was never able to father any children of my own. But then a smile came to me when I recalled with great fondness one of the first opportunities fate had brought our paths directly across each other,’” he quoted, looking down at his notes. “‘I had the blessed fortune of meeting you and your lovely wife not long after the birth of your eldest. Ymir granted me a vision when I gazed upon the most breathtakingly beautiful baby girl that I had ever laid eyes on. I felt her presence as strongly as I feel yours sitting across from me now. Waldron Fritz, you shall name this child as your successor to the throne, is what I was told. For a long time, I told not a soul of this vision, silently praying that the Founder was wrong, and that I would be able to have children of my own. But such was not the way of the world.’”   
Rod cleared his throat, wiping another tear from his eye. “Never in my life would I have imagined that I would standing before humanity today, paying homage to a wonderful king, whom I had the privilege of calling a close friend. If you had told me that he would name my eldest daughter as his goddaughter and the successor to the throne, I would have called a physician, for fear that you’d gone mad. But now, it is my great pleasure to bring forward my daughter, Frieda Reiss.”  
Thunderous applause echoed throughout the Walls, and the people got their first look at the young woman who was about to be crowned queen. Every inch of her, from her dark, perfect hairdo down to her black, polished shoes screamed regality. She wore a floor-length, A-line dress with cap sleeves in a shade of off-white, decorated with elaborate silver embroidery over the bodice and skirt. Attached at the shoulders was a royal purple cape trimmed in silver that trailed for several feet behind her as she walked. A young page stood behind her, tasked with carrying the jeweled cushion that displayed one of several ornate royal crowns, as well as the ceremonial scepter, used only on occasions such as these.  
Frieda beamed graciously, allowing the adoration of her people to wash over her, stopping several steps shy of where her father waited. The page stepped to the side of her, being cautious so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.   
Rod lifted the scepter from the cushion first, turning his back to the throngs of people. He spoke clearly enough that the people still heard every word. “In the name of the Founder Ymir, I, Rod Reiss, Regent to the late King Fritz, do recognize his successor, Frieda Reiss. You have been found to be worthy of leading humanity. May your eyes remain fixed on the future, with the support of those who’ve come before you guiding your steps.”  
Frieda accepted the offered scepter. “I, Frieda Reiss, accept the duty of ruling humanity. It is not a task taken lightly. With the Founder as my witness, I shall lead with the wisdom, grace, and leadership of those who have come before me.”  
Satisfied, Rod gave a nod, and flashed a slight smile to her before taking the jeweled crown from its resting place. Frieda knelt in front of him, bowing her head in a sign of respect.  
Lifting the heavy crown high, he spoke again, “In the name of the Founder Ymir, we do offer Frieda Reiss as successor to the rulership of all humanity. May she find favor in your sight, oh esteemed Founder, that you may pour out your many blessings upon the people. Her life and the fate of humanity rests upon your hands, now and forever. Amen.”  
Frieda whispered a soft amen under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. The time had finally come. She was finally becoming Queen. A heavy weight settled on her head, and she fought the urge to reach up to adjust it, allowing her father to balance it for her. She rose slowly, straightening to her full height.   
“I present to you, humanity, The True Queen: Frieda Reiss!” Rod shouted, then took a knee, bowing before her. Frieda’s eyes swept over the crowd as every man, woman, and child, bowed in reverence. Bowed to her. Even her four siblings who she grew up with all these years bowed before her. At long last, she was the True Queen, now and forevermore. 

\-----------------------------------

Lugging barrels around the house and the Forge wasn't Dillon's idea of going into hiding. However, they all needed to erase all traces of their existence and give the MPs something to be worried about. This day has been planned ever since Kyler's murder, and unfortunately, it had finally come.  
With a pained grunt, Dillon put the last barrel with the other four against structures that held the Forge up. "How's this look, Dad?"  
The older Amsdale looked up from setting a gunpowder line from the barrels. "That should be good enough to work. I'm almost got the fuse ready. Just a little further."  
Carolyn approached the entrance with a concerned look on her face. "Hurry up, you two. We have to go."  
Matthew finally emptied the last of the jar. "There we go. Let's light it up and run."  
The woman nodded and turned to load up in the carriage only to find herself with a knife penetrating her gut. She froze with a gargled gasp as she was shoved back into the Forge.  
"Carolyn!" Matthew shouted, rushing to her aide along with his son.  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."   
The two froze in their tracks as a tall lanky man with a pistol entered the premises. He had the weapon aimed at Matthew's skull, ready to fire at any moment. Not wanting to get shot, they raised their hands slowly.  
"W-Who are you?" Dillon stuttered fearfully.  
"Name's Kenny," he introduced with a tip of his hat. "Old Man Reiss sends his regards to the Restorer." He chuckled. "The lawyer was the traitor. Sounds like a cliche out of a mystery book, doesn't it?"  
Carolyn coughed out blood that was currently filling her lungs. "Let… let them go. They're innocent. It's me you want."  
"I want a lot of things," Kenny pointed out. "Today, I could honestly go for one hell of a chicken dinner. But before that, I'm feeling a bit generous today." Keeping his gun trained on them, he slid the long door shut, effectively trapping the Amsdales inside with him. The only source of light now were the torches on the walls. He, then, strode over towards several swords and picked a sleek one at random. "Always wanted to try out one of these. Course, back then, it would've been the fastest way to track me. Now that I'm an honest citizen, I get to indulge myself today." Using the hand that held the pistol, he gestured the two towards the completed weapons rack. "Go on. Don't be shy."  
Father and son glanced at each other briefly. This man was giving them a choice: kill or be killed. With Carolyn losing blood every second, there was only one move to make. Carefully, they followed the psychopath's orders. Matthew armed himself with a katana and a knife while Dillon chose a falcata.  
Kenny's grin widened greatly and tossed the gun to the side, replacing it with a slightly shorter sword. "Let's have some fun, okay?"  
The blacksmiths rushed him with a yell before clashing blades. The two were skilled, which helped them determine if their weapons were quality or not. However, their abilities paled to Kenny's who not only blocked their attacks with ease, but also delivered a hard kick that sent Dillon crashing into the weapons rack. Matthew was immediately put on the defense as he barely managed to keep himself from getting cut up. The psychopath swung overhead, though Matthew ducked. His opportunity in front of him, the elder blacksmith attempted a stab to the heart. Then, the hilt of Kenny's sword combined with his fist moved far quicker and smashed into his skull, downing him.  
"You've got quality weapons, Amsdale," Kenny complemented. "I'll make sure to take good care of them."  
Dillon was back on his unbalanced feet, clutching his gut. He felt like a couple of ribs caved in from that attack.   
Kenny turned his attention to the boy and approached him slowly. "How about it, kid? You wanna try your luck? Who knows? You could be the hero that defeats the big, bad Kenny the Ripper."  
Silently, Matthew crept towards the area where Kenny dropped his gun, doing his best to ignore the throbbing his head was feeling.  
Dillon saw this and immediately focused on distracting the man. He took a fighter's stance, preparing to make a charge. Kenny just grinned before slashing as hard as he could against him. The teenager managed to block the blow, but the force behind it caused Dillon to stumble until his back hit the wall.  
"Be right back, kid." Kenny turned on his feet and with a single slash, lopped off Matthew's hand that held the gun. The blacksmith screamed in pain, but was immediately silenced by a sword sticking through his chest.  
"Shhh… don't disturb the neighbors, you damn cheat," Kenny rebuked as he impaled the sword in the wall. He took a step back to admire his handiwork while the man slowly died.  
"Dad!" Dillon screamed before a murderous rage seized him. "You bastard!" He charged at the psychopath, swinging his sword like a deranged, baseball player.   
With one swift move, Kenny disarmed the boy and kicked him back again. This time, Dillon's head hit the anvil and slumped to the ground with a groan. He definitely suffered a concussion from that one.  
Satisfied, Kenny knelt to Carolyn's level. "So, Carrie. Can I call you Carrie?"  
The newly-created widow spat blood in his face as an answer. Were it not for her debilitating stab wound, she'd be trying to kill him.  
"Sounds like a yes to me," he said, wiping it off. "How does it feel to know that everyone you'd worked for has amounted to nothing? Well, now that I think about it, you managed to secure one, single Reiss to your cause. That should comfort you while you're burning in Hell." He patted her on the cheek and stood to his full height. "Still, your efforts have gone in vain, Carrie. The corrupt, sinful government remains, the Reiss family is still in power, and I still get to roam these Walls to test some things. For example..."  
Carolyn's eyes widened in horror as she watched the monster pick up the forge hammer that was lying on the anvil. He planted his boot right on Dillon's chest so he couldn't move. She had to do something, ANYTHING, to make this all stop. Her mouth opened and words that were gargled from blood came out. "...p… please…"  
Kenny ignored her in favor of making his question known. "What happens to a skull when a hammer smashes it?" He raised the weapon for the final blow.  
Dillon could only watch as blood ran down his face. His words were not of pleading, but for the one he loved. "I'm sorry, Abel."  
That got his attention. "Abel? You're the kid she's fucking?" He gave the boy a toothy smile. "Nice."   
The hammer was brought down swiftly and created a sound similar to that of cracking open an eggshell. Dillon's forehead was caved in with blood pouring out and brain matter leaking from his ears. His eyes were frozen in a state of fear, the final expression for the dead teenager.  
Carolyn couldn't take it anymore and broke into sobbing even though it caused her body more pain. Not only did she fail the country, but she failed the two people that mattered more to her than anything else. She couldn't even get up and do something about it.  
"Aw, don't cry, Carrie," Kenny said, removing the torch from the wall. "Abel will find another guy to stick it in her." He dropped it right on the gunpowder trail and gave his last words. "I'll take good care of these weapons. You have my word." He grabbed a few swords and, with a tip of his hat, he exited the Forge and slammed the door shut.  
Carolyn could only watch as the trail drew closer to the barrels. This was her legacy: a failed mission and a slaughtered family. It was all for nothing. She looked up at her faithful husband who supported her all these years who was now a human pincushion. She, then, glanced at her only son, her true pride and joy growing into a man, lying on the ground as a corpse.   
Carolyn Amsdale closed her eyes the second the flames touched the barrels.

\------------------------------------------

To say that Abel was antsy was an understatement. She had easily slipped away from the coronation reception and changed out of the heavy dress into a borrowed pair of riding pants and an extra blouse from her closet. She took a filly from the stable and rode as fast as she could to the gate between Yarckel and Wall Rose. She’d tied off the horse a couple blocks away in front of an empty cafe and walked to the rendezvous point. Her mind wandered back to Carolyn’s parting instructions from the night before.   
“The plan is simple: we’re using your status as a Reiss sibling to our advantage. You’re going to be distracting the Garrison troops guarding the gate to allow us to slip through unnoticed,” the lawyer explained.  
“And then once we are clear on the other side, you’ll meet up with us by the Wall Worshippers' church,” Dillon supplied, giving her a reassuring grin.  
“The Garrison troops might not even be an issue. We’re planning on making sure that the MPs and the Garrison forces are all, preoccupied, shall we say,” Carolyn smirked.   
“How exactly are you planning that?” the perplexed girl asked.  
“We’re blowing up the Forge,” came the unexpected answer from her boyfriend.  
Abel’s eyes widened. “Y-you’re serious? Holy shit.”  
Carolyn gave her a disapproving look like only a mother could. “I’m sure you can find better language to use than that. You’re a young lady, please behave as one.”  
The teen ducked her head in embarrassment. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied quickly.  
“Anyways… watch for the explosion. It should occur approximately five minutes before we arrive,” Carolyn finished. “Once we’ve made it into Wall Rose, the hardest part will be over.”  
Abel had nodded. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Thank you, Mrs. Amsdale.”  
“Call me Carolyn, Abel,” the lawyer replied, giving her a hug before the Reiss siblings left for the night. “If you’re coming with us, there’s no need for formalities.”  
“Thank you, Carolyn,” the teen corrected herself. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”  
Dillon’s hug lasted longer, and was accompanied by several tender, sweet kisses. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “I already can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Don’t keep me waiting, okay?”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Forever for us starts tomorrow.”  
The ground shaking brought Abel back to reality, and her head whipped up. A plume of fire and smoke was rising from the direction of the Forge, and she checked the pocket watch that Dillon had entrusted to her. It wouldn’t be long now. She watched Garrison troops charge by, counting the number. Hah. The losers only left two at the gate. Everyone else was distracted by drinking a toast to the new queen, or the fireball that was engulfing a well-known forge in the area.   
Minutes ticked by. Abel checked the watch again, getting an uneasy feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t like Dillon to be late, and Carolyn was the picture of punctuality. She had to be for the career she was in. She started walking, then broke into a run, racing toward the remnants of the burning building. Her pace slowed when she got close, seeing a small handful of people gathering to watch as the fire crew extinguished the last of the flames. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw several MPs carrying the charred remains of… a body. Her feet moved on their own, but they stopped in their tracks when the men set the body beside two others on a large tarp in the alleyway. Three bodies. From the burning remains of the forge. She had to be dreaming. There’s no way it could be…   
She crept closer as the MPs went back into the smoldering building, speaking in low voices with one another that she didn’t hear. She had to know. Her limbs shook as she stopped in front of them. Two full adults, and one slightly smaller, and the larger man was missing his right hand. A slight red-hot glow on the ring finger of both the man and woman confirmed her fears. Which also meant… her eyes drifted to the smaller form, gasping as she realized that unlike the other two, his head had been severely misshapen.  
Her knees finally gave out, and she cupped her head in her hands, her ears filled with the sound of wordless screaming. Hot tears rolled uncontrollably down her face. This had to be a nightmare. There was no way that the Amsdales, Matthew, Carolyn… Dillon….. NO! They couldn’t be dead! There was no way that fate would be so cruel to her!  
“No! NO! DILLON!!!!!” Abel screamed, sobs wracking her body. Her throat was raw, but it didn’t matter. Her heart was twisted and torn, pain overtaking her in ways she’d never fathomed in her sixteen years of living. Dillon, the young man she loved, the man she’d given everything to, and was leaving her family for, was dead. Dillon was dead! Forever. And with him died all of her hopes, dreams, and a portion of herself. Nothing was going to be the same. The future had gone from being bright and full of potential to locking her back inside her bleak cage, from which there was little hope of escape, in the blink of an eye.  
Strong hands on her shoulders pulled her back into the present, and an MP mouthed words but she didn’t hear them. Abel shoved him away and ran, back towards her filly. She had to find Urklyn. She sobbed harder when she thought about having to tell him about Dillon and his family.  
From the castle, the faint sounds of music could be heard. Numbness had set in over her heart, even as tears still flowed freely from her eyes, blurring her vision. One single thought remained. While humanity celebrated their new queen, an ominous message had just been delivered. If you oppose the queen or the ruling forces, there was only one punishment. Death.


	33. The Fatal Agenda

Dirk checked over his shoulder for the fourth time since entering the crystal caves. Urklyn had asked him to stand closer to the door, keeping an ear out in case anyone came down while they were here. The younger teen was trying to play it cool, but anxiety was beginning to gnaw at his stomach.   
“Dirk. I said keep an ear out, not look every thirty seconds,” Urklyn gently chastised him. “You know how creaky that door is. Nobody is going to be able to sneak up on us.”  
“Besides, Father is busy fawning over Frieda’s every need and desire today, just like every day,” Florian mumbled irritably.   
Abel was notably silent and had been since they came down into the cavern.   
Urklyn rubbed his hands together and took a seat on the bottom stair, leaving his sisters staggered on the higher steps, watching him. "First off, you all have done a great job keeping cool around our parents during all this bullshit. I'm proud of you all, and… I'm sorry you were all dragged into this situation."  
Dirk let out a snort, leaning against the stair railing. "Too late for apologies. We're all stuck with knowing what kind of scumbags our delightful relatives are."  
“Just cut to the chase, Urklyn,” Abel said sullenly, breaking her silence.  
“We get it. Our parents suck, Kenny is a killer, and we’ve gotta pretend like we think everything is fine and normal,” Florian summarized. “What about it?”  
Urklyn let out a sigh. "Guys, I know that this has been hard on all of you. In different, horrible ways, we've suffered. Mutilation, loss of innocence, deaths of loved ones, and torture of all kinds. There's…" He remembered the words Carolyn spoke to him about keeping his family at the forefront of his mind and heart. It steeled his resolve. "There's a chance I'm going to take, and if it backfires, we all are probably screwed. If any of you want to get out while you still can, tell me now. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you three are safe."  
Dirk stared down at him from the top of the stairs and crossed his arms. "Why don't you tell us what you have in mind first? Then, we'll decide. Abel, Flo, you agree?"   
Florian spoke first. “I’m open to hearing what you have to say, but I make no promises.”  
There was a pause before Abel spoke. “Just tell us.”  
Urklyn nodded and began his tale. "Before Carolyn died, she gave me a scrapbook detailing all the atrocities our family and Kenny committed and covered up. Newspaper clippings collected over the years she managed to link back to the Reiss family. She said it was a reminder of why I'm taking the fight to them if I ever doubt myself. However, inside the scrapbook was a final message, one that sent me to a cordoned-off, underground area in Stohess."   
Dirk visibly shivered. "Never liked that place. Too creepy."  
Urklyn went on. "The scrapbook has a code that I've now destroyed per her request: X+Y Z. Clearly the letters were meant to be converted to the numbers 49 and 26. 49 bricks across and twenty bricks down. I spent an hour down there looking for all possible combinations and then… I found it inside a hollow brick." He pulled out of his jacket pocket a small, brown book. "This is a ledger of every name that works for Rod and who is against him."   
Abel looked from the book back to her brother’s face. “So, now that you’ve got that, what do you intend to do with it?”  
“He already told us, Abel. He’s going to make a stand against our father. To force him to pay for all that he’s done,” Florian reminded her.  
"In my hands, unless I want to start a civil war, it's useless," Urklyn admitted. "There's only one person in our family who could truly use it to its intended effect."  
Dirk's eyes widened in surprise. "You're going to tell Frieda?"  
"Now that she's publicly queen, she can cut off the head of the beast once and for all," Urklyn explained. "It's the only way to keep the Interior from crumbling into disarray and chaos. And then, when he's out of the picture, when his allies are imprisoned or dead, Kenny's next." He gave a pointed look at Abel, his most recent victim. "He's going to die, Abel. Right now, it's a matter of waiting for the opportunity."  
“Urklyn? Can you promise me something?” Abel asked.  
The eldest son shook his head. "No. I can't. If Kenny goes down, we can't put our faith in your hope to be the one to do it. It has to be done strategically."  
Abel looked visibly angry, but didn’t snap like she usually did. Yet another thing that had changed since Dillon’s passing.   
“What part will we play in it right now?” Florian piped up.  
"I don't know," he admitted. "Talking to Frieda is the only play I've got. If that goes south, and you guys manage to stick around… we'll have to come with an alternate idea."  
Slowly, Dirk descended down the steps. "If the plan fails, I'll give the ledger to the Scouting Regiment. I bet Commander Erwin could find a good use for it. In any case, I'm seeing this through to the end."  
Florian nodded. “I don’t like it, but it’s our best shot. I can only hope that Frieda will be on our side.”  
“I’m still going to do my best to be the one that finally kills that son of a bitch,” Abel said through gritted teeth. “He WILL pay for killing Dillon.”  
"Abel, I need you to focus," Urklyn stated sternly. "What do you think of the plan?"  
The teen crossed her arms. “It’s a good plan… if Frieda will go along with it. But if she doesn’t, we have a hell of a fight on our hands.”  
Urklyn nodded in agreement. "I need you all to keep your eyes on the sky. If she has me seized, I'm going to fire a flare. If you see that signal, get out of Wall Sina and go to the Scouts." He passed the ledger to Dirk. "Little brother, I'm trusting you with this. You know the way out."  
It was like holding the weight of the world in his hands, but Dirk didn't refuse it. "I'll make sure it goes to the right place."  
"Good." Urklyn gave his siblings one final look. "I love you all so much. Never forget that."  
Florian stood and gave him a hug. “We won’t forget, Urkie. Be safe.”  
Abel pushed herself to her feet, and slowly joined the hug. “We aren’t going to leave you to bear this alone.”  
Dirk also joined their group hug and added, "We've got this, brother."  
Urklyn did his damnedest to contain his tears. Screw every single person that ever lived. He had the best brother and sisters he could ask for.

\--------------------------------

Of all the rooms within the palace, the throne room was the most highly trafficked, and as such, the image it presented had to match the elegance and sophistication that was expected for such a place. Elaborate rugs covered the floors, while hanging on each of the walls were the portraits of the royals who had ruled from years past. Ymir Fritz had the largest, of course, being the Founder, and her portrait was the last you saw before exiting, hanging on the wall directly above the doors across from the throne. The large, silver throne itself was several steps above the main floor of the room on a raised, carpeted platform. At the time when he entered the room, it was empty, which was an oddity.  
It only took a moment for Urklyn’s eyes to land on where Frieda was standing, looking out the window over the districts. She wore a long, silver gown with cap sleeves, trimmed with white fur. Around her waist was a thin, white belt, and on her right hip rested the ceremonial sword she’d been presented with at the finale of her coronation, courtesy of the late Amsdale family. She glanced his direction when her brother was announced, but didn’t turn around. “Guards! Leave us. I’d like some time alone with my brother, if you don’t mind. Under no circumstances are we to be disturbed.”  
“Yes, Your Highness.” Her personal guards bowed, and exited the opulent room, leaving it empty save for the pair of Reiss siblings.  
"How are you holding up, Frieda?" he began, each step taken echoing in the large room.  
“Quite well, thank you,” she replied, keeping her gaze fixed out the window. “We finally got past all the people who simply want to wish me well for taking the throne, and I feel I can settle more fully into my role as queen.”  
He chuckled. "It suits you, you know? This position you've taken. I'm really happy you did this."  
“It’s been a long time coming. Since I received the Coordinate, so much has changed. The world has changed around me. The people have changed. I have grown as well, in all aspects of my life." She still didn't spare him a glance even when she asked him a question. "Do you remember the vow I took before I received the Coordinate?"  
He nodded, the day fully ingrained in his mind. "You said you wouldn't give into the ghosts of our ancestors."  
"I could never understand it. Grandfather and Uncle Uri had the power to do so much good in this world, yet they did nothing. Keeping to themselves was all that mattered. Yet, after all this time, I finally understand. I understand the truth,” Frieda said thoughtfully.  
"And what's the truth?" Urklyn wondered curiously.  
"To achieve true peace… we must not lift our hands against our enemies."  
He blinked slowly, trying to process what he just heard from his sister. '"Not lift our hands against our--' What are you talking about?"  
“Precisely what it sounds like. Enlightenment has come upon me, and I finally recognize the beauty of the position where I find myself presently.” Frieda’s voice held a slight tone that Urklyn didn’t recognize. “Why should we fight against those who will be doing the world a great service?”  
That sinking feeling in Urklyn's gut grew vast. This was the complete opposite of what he wanted to hear. "The Marleyans are turning our people into Titans, Frieda. They're dooming them to a life of a living hell. We're stuck here because if we try to set one foot outside, we'll be ripped to shreds. Where's the great service in that?" He knew damn well the bigger situation outside of the country, something that he wanted to tackle after fixing what was wrong within these Walls.  
“The so-called threat of the Marleyans is no threat at all. In fact, I believe it to be a blessing from the Goddess. As long as the Eldians remain, the Titans will threaten the world. So when they arrive, as I’m certain they will soon, they will surely eradicate the scourge of the Titans from the world,” Frieda explained in a smooth voice. “Then, and only then, shall the world be eternally at peace. The Goddess will be pleased with our sacrifice. She knew that one day this would come.”  
"Frieda, do you even hear what you're saying?" Urklyn asked when he finally found his voice. "We're not sacrifices. We're humans!"  
“And so were the millions the Eldians slaughtered, in display of their power. Humanity has never been the same. Only when the ground has been purified with the last drops of Eldian blood can the world truly start new.” The young queen’s eyes remained fixated on the Walls. “The Walls will be destroyed, and all that remains will be the tales told of the Eldians and their lineage of rulers.”  
"Then what the hell is the point of you taking the throne?" he demanded angrily. "Hell, if you're that desperate for all of us to die, why don't you just rampage through the Districts for your god-damned crusade!?"  
“Consider this to be one final peace offered to the people,” Frieda paused. “To know the face of their True Queen, and to rest easily knowing that she ruled them in such a way that all humanity shall remember and praise her for her valiant leadership.”  
There was a long stretch of silence between the two. Not a single sound was made inside the throne room or outside. It allowed Urklyn's disgust to shine through. "I actually thought you were going to do some good on that throne, Frieda, but now I see the truth: you're so full of shit. Talking in platitudes about the world as if you actually care about them. You care more about yourself than you do for the cause. You want to know how history will remember you? They'll say the 'True Queen' was nothing more than a disappointment, a sniveling coward who had the audacity to send her people to die, and then preached of self-sacrifice while preening in front of her mirror.”  
The final words had barely finished coming from his mouth, when she turned, and he had only a moment to register that something was off before her hand was around his throat, and he was gasping for breath. “YOU DARE DISRESPECT ME SO BLATANTLY A SECOND TIME? YOUR PUNISHMENT SHALL BE SEVERE!” The otherworldly menace and voice that was Frieda’s and yet decidedly not had returned. Her hand tightened around his neck before she threw him down the stairs. She stood over him with flashing purple eyes, digging her boot into his chest, drawing her sword and pointing it straight at his neck. “Eldia shall be free when the Titans are dead. You stand in the way of the Goddess’s desire for the world!” The sword was lifted high, then came plunging down. Searing pain shot through Urklyn’s leg as the blade pierced through his muscle entirely and buried itself into the thick carpet of the step where he laid. “You thought you could make a stand against our Father, against me, and come away unscathed? You ignorant, hopeless, fool. Father was right to bequeath this power upon me! I shall reign as the True Queen, and all of humanity shall remember my name!”  
Despite the sheer agony he was going through, the eldest son still managed out a, "Fuck you… and give me back my sister."  
“You forget so easily that she and I are the same. Her will and mine have aligned in perfect unison, and there shall be no stopping us!” The blade was twisted, digging further into the flesh. Blood poured from the wound onto the step. It was by sheer luck that it had avoided the major arteries, otherwise the eldest Reiss son would be dead already.  
"She promised!" he screamed, the only release he had for the pain. "She promised to fight, damn you."  
“People change, foolish boy. The human mind is fickle and easily corrupt. There’s nothing left for her to fight now. The future will be determined by the way it was always meant to be. Royal blood has always carried the Coordinate, this Holy Inheritance. And we will finish the work that we have set out to do, make no mistake.” “Frieda” sneered at him, a cruel look covering her entire countenance. “Give my thanks to our youngest sister. Without her insight, I would not have recognized how much of an ignorant idealist each and every one of my siblings are.” With a twisted smile, she yanked the sword free and stalked out the door, leaving her brother in a bloodied mess on the stairs to the throne.  
Urklyn wanted to scream, cry, anything, but there was nothing he could do. His sister was gone, and in her place was the demon that started this whole thing. The only course of action was to lie there clutching his injury in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Frieda had given the order for there to be no interruptions at the beginning. She wanted him to do what he did best: suffer alone. 

\---------------------------------------------

Dirk paced back and forth in the girls’ room. They still had several hours before their parents were due back from the tailor’s shop, and the three youngest siblings were gathered, anxiously waiting to see how Urklyn’s conversation with Frieda had gone. Florian had been unusually quiet, and Dirk had playfully prodded at her, trying to get her to come clean on what was bothering her. She dodged the question until they made it back to the safety of her bedroom.   
“So, Flo, what’s got you down?” Dirk nudged her again with an elbow in the ribs. “Don’t tell me: someone put orange juice in your cereal,” he cracked up.  
Abel sat on the edge of her bed and fingered the hilt of her knife, only half-listening to her brother and sister.  
Florian sighed. “I’m worried that I might have screwed things up for Urklyn,” she finally admitted.  
"What are you talking about?" Dirk asked, confused. "The only way that could happen is if…" His voice trailed off as the realization hit him square in the forehead. "Flo, tell me you didn't."  
His youngest sister ducked her head in shame. “I did… back on the night of the Founder’s Day Ball, after all the guests had left for the evening.”  
Abel’s head snapped up, her attention now fully on them. “What did you say?” she asked slowly.  
"She said she told Frieda what's been going on," Dirk answered in a growl. "What the hell were you thinking?"  
“I was worried about him, and I didn’t know who else I could turn to,” Florian whispered, her head in her hands.  
"So, you thought telling the only person with a split personality and the ability to turn into a giant, angry Titan was the best idea?" Dirk wanted to punch something, but he held back. He never dreamed of being this mad with Florian until now. "Why don't you go further? Tell our parents. I'm sure they'll be understanding after they add him to the bodies in our backyard."  
“She’s still our sister,” she weakly protested. “This is Frieda, my big sister that I could talk to about anything.”  
“Florian. Because of you... “ Abel seethed in rage. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done? Frieda knows everything that Urklyn has been doing because of you, and if she’s on our parents’ side, he’s as good as dead. And his blood will be on your hands.”  
The baby of the family started to sob, burying her face deeper into her hands. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to put him in such danger.”  
"You have a funny way of showing it," a familiar voice shot back.  
The trio of siblings glanced at the door to see their alive brother with his leg wrapped in thick, bloodied bandages. He looked worse for wear, as if he was just told the world was going to end.  
"I can forgive it when you told Kenny the first time, but not only did you tell Frieda about what I was up to, you didn't have the spine to tell me sooner?" Urklyn's voice was low, though it still carried his rage. "Go ahead. Tell me why."  
Florian hiccuped, and couldn’t look him in the eye. “I… I was afraid of how you would react,” she admitted.  
Urklyn stared at her without saying a word. It was like he was contemplating all the ways he could tear her a new one. His first move was to limp inside the room, closing the door behind them. Then, he began to chuckle darkly as if he was told a funny joke. It quickly turned into a full-blown laugh, sending shivers down his siblings' spines.   
Florian lifted her head and looked at him with swollen, bloodshot eyes. “What’s so funny?"  
"Urklyn, take it easy," Dirk warned. "You're freaking us out.”  
Regaining control of himself, the eldest brother looked down at the baby of the family. "Florian… you're pitiful. I have never heard a more pathetic, ill-conceived answer in my entire life. Perhaps it would have been better if Frieda had killed me to spare you the possibility of me being furious with you."  
Tears rolled down her cheeks anew with each of her brother’s harsh words. “I’m sorry, Urklyn,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”  
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t fix shit, Florian,” Abel snapped. “You fucked up, big time. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”  
"Look at me, Florian," he demanded coolly. "Now."  
His sister slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.  
There wasn't even the faintest hint of sympathy in his eyes. "This bullshit ends now.. You're going to pick a side, and you will not be indecisive on this ever again. Are you with us or against us?"  
Florian looked at the floor for a moment before she murmured her answer. “I’m with you.”  
Abel scoffed. “Then you better be prepared to fucking prove it. Because right now, you haven’t done shit to give us the impression that you’re on our side.”  
"And trust me when I say you're gonna have plenty of chances to prove it," Dirk assured. While the anger part had passed, he was still deeply disappointed in her. "After all, Urklyn is still alive."  
"I know," he responded, looking down at his injury. "It didn't make sense at first. I'm a threat to Frieda, and she even had a sword in my throat. All she gave me was a stab to the leg. Which means…"  
“So, she was possessed and yet, you’re not dead,” Abel was unimpressed. “Maybe she does still have a touch of her humanity left. Or maybe she’s just a sadist, and wanted to hear you scream.”  
Urklyn shook his head. "No. Sadists still kill their targets. Just look at Kenny, for crying out loud."  
Florian shivered, not liking how the conversation was going. “So, what happens next?” she whispered. “What can we do now?”  
He let a tired sigh and slumped onto the bed with a wince. "I don't know. Frieda's still in there, but I can't reach her."  
"Hate to break it to you, brother, but you have a really nasty habit," Dirk stated, walking over to him. "You're still trying to do all this alone. Sure, you told us the truth, but you're still keeping us at arm's length."  
"I don't want anything to happen to you. Any of you," Urklyn confessed. "If one of you got killed because I let you become more involved--"  
“It’s too fucking late for that, and you know it.” Abel crossed her arms. “We’re all involved now. You’re going to have to trust that we’re going to be there for you, and not screw anything up further.” She shot Florian a dark look. “Right?”  
Florian nodded slowly. “We’re not going to let you down again, Urklyn.”  
Urklyn gazed at each and every one of his siblings. Any day could take them away now. One slip up and it would all come to a terrible end, but it was high time to take that risk. Maybe it would be better than trying to change the world on his own.

\---------------------------------------------------

(Year 850)

Family dinners were still a regular occurrence, but there was one notable absence: Frieda. She had taken up permanent residence in the castle, and as such, it was rare for her to venture back to the family mansion. Abel didn’t find this to be too much of an issue. It was one less person to give her grief over how she was choosing to live. Her mother still hadn’t found out that she’d had a secret boyfriend, but she knew the shit would hit the fan when that day did finally come. The middle daughter steeled herself for another long, dull family dinner.  
One of the servants bowed at the door, and then hurried over to where Rod was sitting, whispering something that only the family patriarch was able to hear. The man’s eyes widened and he turned to Greta. “Dinner will have to wait, I’m afraid.”  
Greta set down her soup spoon, and looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”  
“Titans have breached the Wall in Trost.” Rod spoke loud enough for all seated at the table to hear.  
The reactions from the table were instantaneous.   
Dirk recoiled in horror. "Wait, what!?"  
Florian gasped, and covered her mouth with her hands. “Titans are inside Wall Rose?” she asked fearfully.  
Abel looked horrified as well, her mind reeling. Titans within Wall Rose? They had already breached Wall Maria. If Wall Rose was breached now too… soon there wouldn’t be anywhere left for humanity to retreat.  
Kenny snorted, taking another swig of beer. "Took those assholes long enough."  
"What are we going to do?" Urklyn asked.  
"For one, we have to remain calm," Greta said sternly, eyeing each of her children. "Panicking isn't going to solve the problem."  
"We had a feeling a day like this would come," Rod added, commanding a maid to bring his coat and hat. "Your mother and I will head to the Capital and discuss our response to this. As for you four, Kenny will escort you to a safe house Underground for the time being. There will be enough supplies to sustain you all until we return."  
Urklyn spoke for the group, giving his siblings a harsh look to keep them from arguing. “Yes, Father. We’ll keep each other safe. Please be careful.”  
Rod, then, approached his son and placed his hands on his shoulders. "You must take care of your siblings, Urklyn. I'm counting on you."  
"I always will, Father," he assured.  
In a rare act of tenderness, Greta tightly hugged each of the children in turn. “Take care of yourselves. Try to bathe regularly, and change your clothing. Just because you’ll be in a safe house, that’s no excuse for poor hygiene.”  
Abel bit back the sarcastic comment that came to mind, nodding silently instead.  
Rod guided Greta to the door, and he gave one final glance at the siblings still seated at the table with the family bodyguard. “I leave them in your hands, Kenny. We’ll be in touch as soon as we can.”  
"I'll take good care of them," he swore. "Just get outta here while you still can."  
The door closed behind the pair with a solid thud, leaving the four Reiss siblings sitting in stunned silence, trying to process what was going on.  
Kenny clapped his hands together. "Alright, boys and girls. Pack your bags. We're going on a nice, long vacation. Sure, it might smell like shit, but that's the Underground for you."  
"We're not going to the safe house, Kenny," Urklyn stated with a glare.  
"Oh?" Kenny pulled up a chair. "You planning on sticking it to the old man, huh?" He took a look at the others, a grin slowly stretching across his face. "Well, well, well… looks you all know the truth."  
"We know everything.” Dirk spoke with an animalistic snarl.  
"Dirk," Urklyn warned. "Not now."  
"Better listen to your big brother, shrimp boy," Kenny advised. "Unlike you, he's got all the parts he needs."  
A red haze enveloped Dirk as he tackled Kenny to the ground. He struck the older man in the face repeatedly, screaming his head off. Of course, the upper hand didn't last very long as Kenny landed a savage right hook that knocked the boy onto the ground.   
Abel took advantage of his momentary distraction and charged at the bodyguard, her hand fumbling for the hilt of her knife. She had no time to withdraw it, however. Her face was smashed by one of Kenny's guns, making her stumble into the wall. She ignored the bloodied wound it caused her and went to go again until she was staring down the barrel.  
“Florian, get behind me,” Urklyn spoke quietly but firmly.   
The baby of the family eased herself out of her chair and wordlessly slipped to standing just behind her brother’s left shoulder, her eyes glued on her siblings.  
Kenny currently had his guns trained on both Dirk and Abel, the more likely siblings to act irrationally. "I have killed hundreds of people in my life. It wouldn't take much to kill you four." He gave a smug look to Abel. "You, of all people, should remember just how good I am at my job."  
Hot, angry tears welled up in Abel’s eyes and rolled down her face. “You fucking monster,” she seethed.  
"Let us go, Kenny," Urklyn said calmly. "We are going to defy our father, and we're going to get Frieda on our side. Just lower your guns, and we'll leave."  
"Heh." Kenny didn't hesitate to put his weapons away, a collective sigh of relief coming from Abel and Dirk. "You really think you can reach your stupid-as-hell sister? Last I checked, she was ready to kill you."  
"But she didn't," he pointed out. "I'm still alive. We all are. That counts for something."  
“And obviously she’s not run to Father, so there’s still hope,” Florian broke her silence. “We have to at least try.”  
"Still the same idealistic moron as always, Flo," Kenny sneered. "I didn't survive this long by hoping things would work out. I survived by winning." Slowly, he pulled out of his jacket pocket a case and handed it to Urklyn. "Open it."  
Praying that it wasn't a body part, Urklyn unlatched the case and took a look inside. He nearly dropped it out of shock when he recognized the object. "Where the hell did you get this?"  
"Lord Tubby has an entire bag of them inside a safe in his office. That's what Naked Ymir was covering up," the bodyguard answered with a smirk. "Fitting, don't you think?"  
Florian saw the contents of the case and shook her head vehemently. “No! That’s not the answer to any of this. How could you even think of such a thing?”  
"With ease. Come on, kids. Use those damn brains of yours. You think there's no chance your sister's gonna turn on you all? Only idiots go in with no backup plan. That why Urklyn failed miserably the first time he tried rebelling. Learn from your fucking mistakes already. If you can't save Frieda, then go Titan and eat her!"  
Urklyn didn't say a word as his siblings argued with the psychopath. His eyes were locked on the damn serum that kept ruining their lives, one way or the other. By all rights, he should've just smashed it while telling Kenny to go straight to Hell. It was his freaking sister! But… things were getting worse by the second. People were dying everywhere whether by the Titans or the government. It had to end now. Maybe having a backup plan wasn't such a bad idea after all. "We're leaving," he said, interrupting the arguments.  
Abel growled, but went to stand by her brother. “We’ve gotta get to the Capital. We have to reason with Frieda.”  
“She won’t be at the Capital. Not today,” Florian said suddenly.  
Even Kenny looked confused. "The hell are you…?" He stopped before letting out a snicker. "Son of a bitch. It's today already."  
“Several years ago, Frieda took me with her, out to the farmstead,” Florian began explaining. “She was really emotional and she was rather hesitant to tell me why. But then, as we were walking--”  
"Rod fucked Alma so hard, she had a kid," Kenny interrupted.   
Florian glared at the bodyguard for his crass interruption.  
Abel’s mouth fell open. “We… have another sibling?”  
“Had,” the baby of the family corrected. “She died, and this is the anniversary of her passing. Frieda always goes out to the farmstead to pay her respects and remember her.’  
Dirk, finally recovered from the blow to the head, shakily stood up. "Another sister? What does this family have against brothers?"  
"She's not dead," Kenny said matter-of-factly. "Rod had a last-minute change of heart and sent her to the Training Corps under the name… Kristie, or something."  
Urklyn gave Kenny a look of disbelief. "You really expect us to believe you?"  
"Oh, come on. I killed that Alma bitch. That has to earn me some goodwill," Kenny protested.  
Not a single person was surprised he was responsible.  
Dirk, surprisingly, came to his defense. "No… not Kristie. Krista."  
Abel whirled to face him. “And how the hell would you know that?”  
"Before this asshole had me kidnapped, I had a bit of a scuffle with a couple of refugees. This blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl patched me up. I thought she looked familiar somehow," he explained.  
Florian covered her mouth with her hands, trying to process everything. “We have to get to the farmstead. We have to talk to Frieda, NOW.”  
At long last, Urklyn pocketed the case. "She's right. The longer we stay here, the more people die."  
Kenny held the door open for them. "Then hurry up. I've got better things to waste my time on."  
Abel hurried outside first, ordering the carriage to be made ready. Florian trailed behind at a slower pace, her mind racing through all that they’d just seen and heard. Historia was alive! Maybe, just maybe this would be enough to convince Frieda to see reason and join their side. Dirk was just as optimistic. If there was one thing Frieda had a soft spot for, it was her younger siblings. This had to work. Urklyn brought up the rear, his mind battling out the options. He couldn't believe he was considering killing his sister if all else failed, but, unfortunately, Kenny was right. He had to prepare for when things went wrong.  
Through all this turmoil, none of the siblings dared asked the crucial question: why did Kenny have the serum in the first place?


	34. The Inheritance

There were few places within the Walls where Frieda truly felt that she could just take a deep breath and be herself. The first was the crystal caves. Having the ability to shift into her Titan form without fear of mass panic and chaos, as well as being able to train without holding much back. The second was more tranquil, and it was to this place that she returned. Since she began her Queen training in earnest, she’d had fewer and fewer opportunities to go out to the farmstead, but she made it a point to go out once a year, at minimum. She felt it was fitting that she could pay her respects to her half-sister.   
Frieda walked silently through the orchard, the tips of her fingers skimming the edges of the trees as she passed. The only sounds outside of the nature ones were the crunch of her boots over fallen leaves and the soft swoosh the long skirt of her green dress made. She paused when she reached the familiar tree, running her fingers over the rough bark. “Hello, sister. It’s been far too long since I’ve been out to speak with you. I wish you could see me now… I’ve been crowned Queen of the Walls. The True Queen is ruling her people now.” A soft smile crossed her face. “I hope that you’d be proud of me. I so wish that I had the opportunity to see the type of woman you would grow up to become.”  
Suddenly, her ears picked up the sounds of approaching footsteps. There wasn't supposed to be anyone working today. If they were assassins, they were doing a terrible job. Slowly, she turned around to see that all four of her siblings have come to greet her with grave expressions.  
“To what do I owe the pleasure of the company of all of my siblings today?” she asked coolly. “If you had wished to pay me a visit, surely you could have come to the castle, rather than interrupting my precious free time.”  
"Trost has been invaded by the Titans, Frieda," Urklyn told her. "If you don't do something to help them, we'll lose far more people than we did the first time this happened."  
“I was informed of the breach,” she replied, turning her back on the group. “I told my advisory counsel that I would be spending time in quiet meditation away from the bustle of the castle. It’s only here that I find the tranquility to clear my mind. They will have their answer by this evening.”  
Abel snorted. “In other words, you told them to piss off, and you don’t intend to do jackshit about the Titans pouring through the Wall. Does that sound about right?”  
Frieda took a seat under the tree, crossing her legs in preparation for her meditation. “If I say yes, will that allow me the peace I seek for my time in prayer?”  
"You're a coward," Urklyn said coldly. "You can't bring yourself to put yourself on the front lines, so you'll let our people die while you wallow in your self-pity over the loss of a sister you were never there for."  
Frieda’s eyes flashed dangerously. “So, our youngest sister couldn’t manage to keep that a secret either. What is she good at? Betrayal?” The Inheritance was speaking through the young queen once more, sending shivers down the spines of all those listening.   
Florian ducked her head and leaned closer to Abel, her sister’s scathing words cutting deep.  
Dirk, however, looked down at Frieda as if she was an irritant. "Hey, jackass? Fuck off. We're talking to our sister, not you."  
From Frieda’s mouth came an animalistic growl. “She and I are one, foolish child. You will address me with all the deference befitting royalty.”  
“Bullshit! You don’t sound anything like her. Yeah, you use her fancy words, but even when she was acting shitty, she still cared about her family,” Abel cut in. “I should know. We fucking argued and butted heads, but even with all of that, we still had our moments where we could laugh and act like sisters should. You’ve removed that from her entirely!”  
"Frieda, please." Florian approached her hesitantly, like she was going up against a lion. "I know you can hear us. I know you're still there. Don't let this monster control you."  
“Frieda” glowered at her. “You know nothing. Return to the naive, idealistic nonsense that you are so very fond of, child. What has been set into motion is for the good of the people. All who stand against this future shall suffer a worse fate than those who merely observe.”  
"Worst than getting ripped to shreds by Titans?" Dirk demanded. "Have you ever been to a refugee camp? I have. There are people starving in the streets begging for the sweet release of death, families torn apart because of the Titans. There is nothing you can do worse than you're already doing."  
“My mind is not as fickle as you puny Humans seem to feel it is. This is the way the world will go, mark my words,” the young queen vowed. “You have disturbed my time in remembrance of my sister long enough. Be gone.”  
Florian had finally had enough, and she grabbed Frieda’s hands in her own. “Frieda! Historia isn’t dead. She’s alive.”  
The purple eyes staring into hers widened in shock. “You lie in an attempt to sway me. You have no proof of this.”  
"I saw her," Dirk confessed, trying to shield Florian despite being shorter than her. "Before I was kidnapped, I met her. She called herself Krista. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, cheerful despite all the hell that was going on."  
“Krista… but that’s…” The young queen trailed off. That name was only known by her and their father, from a storybook that she’d used to teach Historia how to read.   
“Please, Frieda. If you won’t help for the sake of humanity, then do it for us. Do it for Historia,” Florian begged.   
Urklyn decided to go further. "I know you care a lot about her. You wouldn't come to this place if you didn't… but she's out there somewhere. She needs you, Frieda. We all do."  
The young queen was silent, her eyes on her lap. Abel silently wondered if it would be enough. She watched her sister’s body language change as her head came up.  
“Be that as it may, one woman is not enough to influence a decision that’s been made for the good of mankind,” came the cold response.  
“How could you be so fucking heartless? There are millions of innocent people at stake here!” Abel snapped angrily. She stomped her boot in the dirt. “Damn it all, Frieda. Pull your head out of your ass and listen to reason!”  
"Frieda… if you don't do something about this… then I will," Urklyn swore, glaring daggers into her eyes. "Don't you dare make me do this."  
Her eyes fell on his hand, tightly clenching… serum. He brought the serum! Her vision went red, and she growled menacingly. “You would even go so far as to threaten me. You would stand no chance against me. My power over the weak, royal blood is unmatched. You will be a pawn in my hand, just like your family before you!” she roared. Her fingernails clawed frantically at her flesh, then lightning flashed down from the sky. Flesh engulfed her figure, and the massive, Titan form replaced the human. Rage-filled, purple eyes locked onto Urklyn.  
"Go! Get out of here!" the eldest brother ordered as he tried to keep the Titan's attention on him. "It's me you want. Let them go."  
“We’re not fucking leaving you!” Abel yelled at him, holding her ground behind him. “You’re not going to die on our watch!”  
The Titan seethed with fury as she looked down at them. "My own flesh and blood conspired against me. You will not be forgiven!" Her hand curled into a fist that would end all of their lives.  
“STOP THIS!” Florian shouted, running to put herself between her siblings and their angry eldest sister. Tears streamed down her face as she yelled her plea again. “STOP THIS FIGHTING! WE JUST WANT OUR SISTER BACK!”  
Eyes wide with horror, Urklyn reached out to pull her away. "Flo, no! Stay--!"  
It all happened in an instant. The back of Frieda's massive hand swung, and Florian’s scream was cut short as her body hit a nearby tree with a sickening crunch. The trio of siblings shouted her name and ran to her in an instant, turning their backs to her assailant.  
Frieda’s eyes landed on the still form of her sister, and she felt cold all over. She’d just struck her baby sister. Memories flashed in her mind, leaving her gasping. The conversation with Florian in the orchard, recounting memories of Historia. The night when Urklyn snapped, leaving Frieda with a sobbing sister to console. A late evening talk with Florian where she spoke with concern about their brother, while tears rolled down her face. The last memory that came to mind sent shivers down her spine. It was the night when Grisha had come to the caves… a monster hellbent on killing them where they stood. She had been the one to step in front and protect her family. Now she’d become the very monster that she’d been trying so desperately to defend them from.   
Heretics will not be tolerated in the royal house of Ymir.   
Those are my siblings! I just struck and killed my baby sister! How dare you say such heinous things! Tears rolled down the massive Titan’s face, and she fell to her knees, sobs wracking her body.  
No! You cannot succumb to your…  
The voice seemed to be getting fainter to the point of a dull roar the more she stared at her motionless sister. So much of their time together flashed through her mind in an endless cycle, tormenting her, torturing her. Frieda gripped her face and clawed at it, blood seeping out from the self-inflicted wounds. The Coordinate, the damn Inheritance, the Curse of Ymir… she wanted none of this.   
Frieda's emotions built up in her body that even her Titan form was unable to contain them. She opened her mouth and let out a deafening roar of agony, windows shattering from the intense vibrations. She didn't care how many people heard this sound. None of it mattered anymore.  
It went on for nearly fifteen seconds before her voice became too hoarse to make those noises anymore. She forced herself to glance down at her other siblings. An enraged Abel was being held back by Dirk as she was shouting at her. Knowing her younger sister, they were full of obscenities, and she deserved every single one. Urklyn cradled Florian bridal-style and proceeded to make a mad dash towards the direction they came from. Dirk whispered something harshly in Abel's ear, and the two followed their brother without sparing Frieda a single glance. She was all alone now, just like she wanted.  
The dull roar of the Inheritance was fighting to be heard, whispering at her incessantly. She paid it no mind, her own thoughts keeping her more than occupied. How could she have been so consumed by this madness? And there was no more fitting term for it than that: madness. How many endless hours had she spent in prayer and reflection, only to have this evil creep in and begin poisoning her mind. On the surface, the silver tongue of the Inheritance had seemed innocent enough. It told her that she deserved to rule, that it was her birthright. That to be the ruler, she would need to make difficult decisions. Never had she thought that it would be at the sacrifice of her family.  
Family. She knew that many people had differing views about hers in particular. They were certainly not saints, and some were surely destined for hell. Even still, there were things that she couldn’t change, nor did she want to. She had respect for her mother: the Goddess only knew what she’d been put through with her husband’s infidelity, and being tasked with the proper raising of five children. Even if she butted heads with the woman, there was something to be said for her resolve.   
Her father… If Frieda knew anything, it was that her father had an unshakeable control over everything that he set his mind to. The lengths he would go to for the sake of his family was nearly madness itself, but it meant that he had his eyes and ears on things that most others would find trivial. Due to this, he made a powerful ally, or a frightening enemy.  
Urklyn. Closest in age to the young queen herself, she’d seen a tremendous amount of growth in him over the last several years. What sort of man he’d become, being willing to do whatever it took to end the cruel acts of their father and his bodyguard, all to safeguard his siblings. Everything that Florian had told her about their brother, from building allies, to being forced to murder them in front of their father to save his own skin. Urklyn’s courage and tenacity, even to face her down not an hour ago and threaten what he had, it was to be commended.  
Dirk. The slightly annoying, prankster of the group. He’d been forced to grow up in a hurry, going through hell and back again. His kidnapping, maiming, and trauma was enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity. But he came to that edge, and fought back, unwilling to allow it to destroy who he was. If there was a word to sum up who Dirk was, it was a fighter.   
Abel. She had to shake her head. Abel was fiery, passionate, and didn’t let anything stand in her way. She had a boldness about speaking her mind that the young queen admired, and she wished she held the same self-confidence the younger teen carried. New tears fell from Frieda’s eyes when she remembered the despair and sheer heartbreak that Abel had suffered from the death of her boyfriend. She’d done nothing to comfort her sister, too obsessed with her new role to contemplate what support she might offer her. How could she have been so heartless with her younger sister? She’d lost her own boyfriend as well, and knew too well the pain that it brought.   
Florian. Frieda covered her eyes and wept harder. The baby of the family. She’d been sweet and naive to a fault, very rarely even losing her temper. She’d grown and matured, both physically through puberty, and emotionally. The situation with Urklyn, combined with learning the truth of the sort of man that her father was, had dealt a harsh dose of reality to the young teen. She was, perhaps, the only one who dared to think that their family, specifically all five of the siblings, could be saved. And she’d killed her.   
A twinge of hope came when she remembered how Urklyn had hurried off with Florian in his arms. Maybe, just maybe, there was a small chance that she wasn’t dead, and then she’d have a chance at redemption.   
Redemption. The Inheritance had spouted nonsense of redemption by the death of the Eldians. Yet as she sat, wallowing in her emotions, mindless Titans were pouring into Trost. Innocent people were dying. Her people. The accursed Inheritance was willing to turn a blind eye to the suffering and death of millions, but it made the young queen sick to her stomach. She had seen firsthand what a Titan could do to a corpse of a human being. The knowledge that civilians with no way to defend themselves were currently in a state of terror, panic, and chaos spurred her to her feet. She had to take action. The so-called “Holy Inheritance” was no longer in control. She was the True Queen of the Eldians, and she would not sit idly by while HER people were devoured. She broke into a run, her destination already set. Trost.

\-------------------------------------

Inhuman roars combined with frightened screams from the district of Trost. The ground shook from the weight of the giant humanoids that laid waste to all in their path. Roofs were tossed aside like matchsticks, bricks left in crumbling heaps of rubble. Torn cloth from awnings and discarded laundry decorated the debris. Here and there, pools of blood stained the street.   
People flooded through the streets, running in hopes of finding escape from the tidal wave of monsters. Those who were unable to run found little hope of escape. Frieda fought back tears as she heard the screams of those unable to make it free of the mindless Titans.  
Frieda saw steam rising from several blocks away, and movement across the rooftops gave her pause. Her eyes widened when she realized what she was seeing. Cadets fresh out of the Training Corp moved effortlessly across the tops of the buildings, propelled by their ODM gear. She could hear the faint whistling and whirring sounds of the gear as they drew nearer to her. A pair of them teamed up and sliced the nape of a 5 meter Titan, dropping it to the ground in a cloud of steam.   
To her left, she heard the whirr of an ODM gear halt with an odd popping noise. She spun around just in time to see a young cadet be dangled by his ODM gear in front of the grotesque, smiling face of a Titan. The youth screamed for help, the sound vanishing instantly when he was swallowed whole.   
A primal rage started to fill her once more. These creatures, these predators, they had no reason to exist in her District, her country. If she had to kill every single one to preserve her people, so be it. Any sort of fear left her as her eyes landed on a nine-meter Titan with brown hair. There was a cadet shouting incessantly coming towards it, and the Titan was prepared to attack.  
Planting her feet, Frieda broke into a sprint, her hands balling into fists. Her target heard her coming and turned just in time to have a gigantic fist smash into its grinning face. She felt bones shatter in the skull as the Titan flew into a nearby building, dazed and slumping into a sitting position. She wasn't finished as shown by her hoisting the Titan to its feet. With a loud screech, Frieda buried her teeth in its nape and pulled. Blood gushed from the fatal wound, splattering her face as it went down. She didn't care for a second now that her quarry was gone.  
The attack did not go unnoticed as three Titans of different sizes started to converge on her. Numbers were meaningless to Frieda. They would all die the same. Her green and purple eyes flashing, Frieda Reiss unleashed the loudest roar she could muster. The time for hiding had come to an end. The Queen of the Eldians had arrived.

To be continued…..

\---------------------

Epilogue

The sterile smell of a hospital was the same, no matter where it’s located. All of them seemed to specialize in white walls, polished floors, and unusual placements for windows. Most of the rooms were filled with low voices. From down the hall, screams of pain, and sobbing cries of anguish could be heard filtering through the thin walls.  
On the bed in a private room, laid the baby of the Reiss family. The soft rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life from her. Bandages wrapped her head, chest, and her right arm. Her sister sat on the foot of the bed, while only one of the chairs at the foot of the bed was occupied.   
“I can’t believe that they said she’s going to be passed out like this for so long,” Abel whispered in a low tone. “It’s been over four hours. I thought she would have woken up by now.”  
"She's lucky to be alive," Urklyn added quietly. "If she was..." He shook it off. What-ifs concerning his sister's life were too horrifying to imagine.   
Dirk slipped back into the room and closed the door softly behind him. “Any change?” he asked as he tiptoed back to sit beside his brother.  
He shook his head. "She's alive. That's all we know."  
Dirk pursed his lips at the news, but he, too, was thankful Florian would live. Then, he pulled out the newspaper from under his arm. "You guys aren't going to believe what happened today."  
Urklyn took it and held it up for Abel to see. Both their eyes widened in surprise. "Did… Frieda actually…?" He was at a loss for words.  
Abel shook her head in disbelief. “Maybe… Maybe seeing Flo like that snapped her out of it? Otherwise, I can’t think of any fucking reason for her to completely change sides.”  
Dirk smiled a bit. "This is good, right? We can finally bring our father down."  
"No," Urklyn replied, catching his siblings off guard. "If this is true, Father's days are numbered. His end is coming, but now we need to shift our focus."  
Abel eyed him. “Does this mean…?” She almost didn’t dare to hope.  
"We are going to kill Kenny."  
A broad, wicked smile crossed Abel’s face. “Now you’ve got my full attention. Let’s take down this evil son of a bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I know this leaves off at a *slight* cliffhanger, but don't worry. Book two is already underway, and once enough has been completed, chapter uploads for that story will begin. Until that time, there will be a brief hiatus. Don't think for a moment that this story will be left unfinished. This is only the beginning for The True Queen and her family.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there went the canon. 
> 
> We hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Let us know what you think in the comments, and I shall see you in the next chapter.


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